


Teddy Lupin and the Dragon's Eye — Book 1

by daemonelix



Series: Teddy Lupin [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-08-04
Updated: 2011-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-22 05:31:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daemonelix/pseuds/daemonelix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teddy had imagined what his first glimpse of the castle would be like, but it hadn't involved nearly being thrown back in the lake by a tree.  Teddy Lupin's first year at Hogwarts brings adventures he thought only happened during his godfather's time at school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Snake and the Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> First: I am new to the AO3, so if you see anything that I ought to have done and didn't (especially when it comes to warnings I didn't put but should have), please tell me and I will fix it!
> 
> I have attempted to stick to canon as much as possible; by canon, I mean the books and to some extent interviews with JKR. There will be some changes to canon, but I have attempted to justify them.
> 
> With regards to the size of Teddy's class at Hogwarts, I have stuck with having roughly 40 students in Teddy's classes. I have decided to explain away discrepancies in HP in terms of the number of students and professors by dividing up Teddy's year into different rotations. Each rotation has roughly forty students, ten from each House, five girls and five boys; and each rotation has all its classes with each other and with the same professors. This means that there will be another boys' dorm in Teddy's year with students in his House who have a whole different set of classmates and professors, so that Teddy will only ever see them at meals, on the Quidditch pitch, in the common room, etc. I don't know if this will make it into the story, but because it seriously hurts my brain in canon, I had to add this here.
> 
> Thanks are due to Damkianna (for whom the first two chapters were a birthday present), for actually getting me to start putting pen to paper on Teddy; for the authors of other Teddy stories, in particular FernWithy at LiveJournal, whose TL series was the first set of complete book-length stories on Teddy; and, of course, to JKR, for giving all of us the world of Harry Potter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andromeda Tonks was the kind of woman who did not appreciate nonsense. She had enough of that in her family, thank you very much, and refused to allow any more of it under her roof. Chapter 1 of Teddy Lupin's adventures at Hogwarts; the events leading up to Teddy's birth from Andromeda's POV.

Andromeda Tonks was the kind of woman who did not appreciate nonsense. She had enough of that in her family, thank you very much, and refused to allow any more of it under her roof. She liked to keep her house in order, whether that meant the floor (habitually spotless), the books (alphabetized and indexed by author and title), the garden (a weed growing within her plot was doomed to a short life), or her husband (who had a terrible time remembering when dinner started, even though it was always seven o’clock on the dot) and her daughter (who Andromeda believed intended to knock over everything in sight, to spite her mother).

She lived a life of purpose: nothing happened around her without Andromeda intending it to occur precisely when it happened. She always prepared dinner on time, without exceptions; if dinner did not begin on time, well, that was Ted’s fault, because he seemed incapable of looking at a clock now and then. She always woke Nymphadora at the same time every morning, which, in hindsight, Andromeda thought might have contributed to Nymphadora’s moving out at the earliest possible occasion. (Sleeping in until ten was, in Andromeda’s opinion, an excellent way to waste away the day; but Nymphadora seemed to consider it the greatest of pleasures.)

Andromeda didn’t remember anyone doing such foolish things when she had been a teenager, but Nymphadora assured her that it was quite common among her Hogwarts friends. Andromeda had suppressed a mutter about the quality of Nymphadora’s Hogwarts friends. If they all slept until noon, what would they accomplish in life?

Andromeda spent much of her time cleaning up the messes of her husband and daughter, who did not respect a well-groomed house as much as they ought. For Andromeda’s part, her clothes were always perfectly ironed and wrinkle-free; her hair combed and pinned behind her head with a snake pin; her shelves dustless; her counters polished shining white; her fireplace cleaned of ash and soot. Ted and Nymphadora did their utmost to give Andromeda a full day’s worth of cleaning, and she spent a good deal of that time commenting about how they ought to be more careful. Andromeda did not shout—it was unbecoming a dignified woman, she believed—but she did her very best impression of a _quiet _shout.__

She enjoyed cleaning, so her family’s perpetual untidiness did not bother her nearly as much as she pretended; but she did not want to let them in on the joke, for fear that they would suddenly stop make any gestures towards cleanliness at all, and then Andromeda would have to clean through the night in order to make the house presentable. She did not enjoy cleaning _that _much.__

After Nymphadora left for Hogwarts, and only returned during the summer, Andromeda found herself suddenly with much less to do. She still ran the book club among the other wizarding families living near Fernmoor, but unless she quadrupled the number of books they read in a month, Andromeda still would be unable to fill the time.

She re-catalogued all the family photos, which involved resolving arguments between her picture-selves about the best order to put the photos in. (Perhaps unsurprisingly, each iteration of Andromeda-the-picture wanted to be placed on top, and came up with elaborate explanations for how that ordering made sense.)

But when Nymphadora left for Auror training, moving out the day after she graduated Hogwarts, Andromeda found herself with still less to do. While Nymphadora had been at Hogwarts, Andromeda had sent her weekly packages of muffins, cookies, and crocheted hats; but now that Nymphadora had a real job, her daughter had forbidden Andromeda from sending her gifts on any days except the holidays.

(The first year, Andromeda had continued to make her gifts as usual, and had sent Nymphadora six large suitcases full of crocheted hats, scarves, blankets, amigurumi, and socks, and muffins and cookies and bread that had been treated with a Preserving Charm. Nymphadora had not been pleased, though Andromeda could have sworn she saw the corner of her daughter’s mouth upturned. She had nonetheless refrained from sending her daughter more than a single suitcase full of presents, and told herself that the reason she did all of this was because she had nothing better to do, and because her own mother had never sent her a single present when Andromeda herself had been at Hogwarts; and Andromeda did not want her own daughter to feel unloved.)

When Nymphadora had accepted her first Auror post, she allowed Andromeda to double the number of presents she gave each year, though informed her mother that perishable goods—such as cookies and bread, in particular—would be most appreciated. “I’m going to be moving around a lot,” Nymphadora explained, “and I’d like to be able to carry as little as possible.”

Andromeda had interpreted that as “I won’t have much time to cook for myself,” so she began to send weekly packages of food. No one would be able to say that she had treated her daughter unkindly, for whatever faults Nymphadora might have had—and Andromeda kept a list, just for reference—Andromeda considered her daughter to be the single most wonderful creature on the planet, and quite possibly in the entire universe.

And then the war had begun anew, and Andromeda had found new purpose. She still cooked for her daughter each week, but she now turned her crocheting and sewing skills to good use, preparing clothes for the members of the Order of the Phoenix to use as disguises. She used some clever spellwork to Charm the cloaks into Invisibility Cloaks, though the spell ran out after a few months and had to be renewed. She increased her weekly cooking to send to members of the Order who were out in the field, acting as spies among the werewolves and the giants.

She increased the protective spells around her house and grounds, so that it could be used as a safe house by the Order. She also kept her house spotless, in case any members of the Order needed to drop by at a moment’s notice. She kept the kitchen cupboards full, to feed said members of the Order. She practiced her healing spells, in case they were ever needed.

And she worried constantly about her daughter, who was out in the thick of things, fighting, no doubt, and knocking things over with a good deal of skill.

In early July, Nymphadora had sent them a letter saying that she and Remus Lupin were getting married in two days’ time, and that they wished to marry at the Tonks’. Andromeda and Ted spent the next forty-eight hours cooking and preparing bedrooms for the guests, a grand total of six. Ted took charge of the wedding gifts, and made them several lovely pieces of furniture; carpentry was one of his favorite past-times, a holdover from his youth. Andromeda barely had time to make a wedding cake, but she put on the finishing touches a whole two hours before the ceremony. The phoenix tail feather, set between a badger with a pink stripe down its back (as Nymphadora had always liked to turn her hair pink) and a lion (with a wolf’s snout), had been the hardest; she’d had to stick more than a hundred slivers of red- and orange-painted chocolate into the stalk.

But the ceremony had come off excellently, and no one (not even Nymphadora) was late. Andromeda had met Remus Lupin a few times, and wasn’t sure what to think of him. He seemed nice enough, and her daughter obviously loved him; but she couldn’t help but wonder why he would put someone he loved in danger. Living with a werewolf, after all, was not the safest of occupations.

Andromeda resolved to accept Nymphadora’s choice with grace, however, and only made the lion on the wedding cake a _little _like a wolf. She could have a made a wolf instead of a lion, after all, but she didn’t.__

In late July, Harry Potter and Rubeus Hagrid had fallen from the sky, following Harry’s flight from Voldemort on his way back to school, as Alastor Moody had warned her they might. Andromeda had been able to exercise her considerable magical skill, and fixed Hagrid up in no time. Ted had helped, too, of course, but Andromeda had barely noticed; for Harry had informed them that he had no idea what had happened to Nymphadora. The fact that Nymphadora had later turned up unharmed did not appease Andromeda, whose sense of unease only worsened. The worst she could imagine was not knowing whether her daughter was safe, and Harry had brought that worst to reality.

(Andromeda found out several months later that Harry had not, in fact, returned to school, but rather had disappeared off the face of the earth. Why, she wondered during the long winter months, had he put her daughter in danger, just to blow off his schooling? She was not, strictly speaking, a member of the Order; more like a friend, she was not given access to secret information. But she still felt a bit of a grudge against Harry Potter, for putting her family into danger and doing nothing to take them back out of it. “He’s our best hope,” Nymphadora said time and time again, when her daughter found Andromeda staring at the wall, book forgotten on her lap, tea nearly spilling onto her shirt. She always gave a grunt of agreement, but it never fooled either of them.)

Barely a month after Harry and Hagrid had come, the Ministry invented that awful law, the one that claimed that any Muggle-born witch or wizard was not, in fact, magically inclined, but rather had stolen a wand from its rightful, pureblood, owner. Andromeda had given up her worries over Nymphadora for a few hours in place of her worries over Ted, who was Muggle-born (but who had not, she was certain, ever stolen anything from anybody).

Death Eaters, disguised as Ministry employees, had shown up at their house, demanding that Ted register as a Muggle-born, surrender his wand, and show up at the Ministry of Magic the following morning for a hearing about his alleged theft.

Andromeda had shouted, for what she believed was the first time in her life (though she had very fuzzy memories of perhaps having raised her voice as a two-year old). The Death Eaters had duly retreated, and it was a good thing, Andromeda thought, for she had felt herself on the verge of committing some terrible act, worse even than shouting.

Ted spent the next three months confined to the house, barely daring to venture into the garden to pick the potatoes and watermelon that Andromeda had planted several months earlier. Death Eaters came by from time to time, but Andromeda and Ted had strengthened their protective charms and spells so much that neither Death Eaters nor Ministry officials, nor anyone who Andromeda didn’t like, could enter the property. Andromeda prided herself on the strength of her protective charms, though she did not appreciate their necessity.

Barely a month after Ted was forced into hiding, Nymphadora appeared on their doorstep. Her daughter had changed her hair, her nose, her eyes, and her chin so much that Andromeda did not immediately recognize her. But Nymphadora Metamorphmagus abilities did not extend to her voice, and when she called, “Mother?” into the darkness, Andromeda rushed out onto the stoop.

“You’re—”

“Pregnant,” Nymphadora interrupted, “and I’m not late for dinner, because you didn’t even know I was coming.”

Andromeda felt all the worry drain from her in an instant as she embraced her daughter. “Never one to beat around the bush,” Andromeda noted as they entered the house. “Pregnant?”

It didn’t matter, Andromeda told herself, that her daughter was pregnant—because Nymphadora was there, safe and sound and looking a bit haggard, but _there _and safe. Andromeda couldn’t suppress the smile that threatened to overturn her dignity, and for once she didn’t try very hard. Nymphadora—returned, home, though she had no idea for how long.__

It was now early November, and Nymphadora explained that she had only realized she was pregnant a few weeks before. Andromeda wished she could scold her daughter for not writing immediately with the news, but Nymphadora’s job demanded secrecy and mobility. In the past few years, since Nymphadora had begun her Auror’s post, Andromeda had become used to long periods of silence from her daughter, and though she desperately wished it could be otherwise, she did not want her daughter to compromise her safety for the sake of a short letter, even one bearing such important news.

They sat down to dinner, Andromeda having handily made up several extra servings (as she always did, just in case), and Nymphadora described everything that had happened in the past few months. Harry escaped Voldemort’s clutches, but had not returned to Hogwarts, and his friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger had gone with him, wherever they were; Alastor Moody had been killed; Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour had married, and the wedding had been interrupted by the Ministry of Magic; Rufus Scrimgeour had been killed, and replaced by one of Voldemort’s Imperiused cronies; and Harry, Ron, and Hermione had broken into the Ministry of Magic.

Some of this, Andromeda had already known; some had been mere rumors, floating about; some she had guessed from the lack of information in The Daily Prophet; and some was brand new. “Alastor Moody?” Andromeda asked. Nymphadora had known Alastor well, when they had both been in the Ministry’s Auror department.

Nymphadora nodded, and Andromeda didn’t ask further.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. Nymphadora had stumbled across some Ministry documents in the course of her work, documents which claimed that Ted, among others, had been put on a list of people who did not support the Ministry, and that Death Eaters were watching the house. The Death Eaters were cracking down on all the Muggle-borns they had missed the first time; apparently, Nymphadora said, Andromeda had scared the first batch so badly that they had failed to file a report on Ted Tonks, so the Ministry had only caught the omission in their second round of Muggle-born round-ups.

“That’s why I came,” Nymphadora said, looking at her parents more seriously than she had ever looked in her life. If it weren’t such a dire circumstance, Andromeda would have admired her daughter’s capacity to become serious, which she had previously thought impossible. Even on Nymphadora’s wedding day, she had been cracking jokes left, right, and center. “They’re coming here, soon, and they won’t stop.”

That evening, Andromeda had bade a teary farewell to Ted. (Tears were another thing Andromeda considered unbecoming of a dignified woman, but this particular case warranted a slightly lower level of dignity than usual. And besides, they were alone in the house, as Nymphadora had gone for a quick check of the spells around the grounds, and to prepare a place through which Ted could safely leave.) They had decided that they could under no circumstances allow Ted to be registered with the Muggle Registration Commission, as it went against everything they stood for. And Andromeda took what she stood for very seriously; coming from the Black family, she had learned from a tender age not to let go of her morals for the simple sake of convenience.

She had half a mind to go on the run with Ted, but they both agreed that she would better serve the Order if she stayed, maintained the house, and protected wayward members of the Order in their time of need. And besides, with Nymphadora now four months pregnant, she would soon be incapable of working as she had been. They agreed that Nymphadora would stay for Andromeda to look after until she gave birth, while Ted would go on the run.

The Ministry did not know that Nymphadora was there, so they would not be looking for her; and she could Apparate away the moment they appeared, allowing Andromeda to truthfully say that Ted had gone on the run and there was no one else in the house. Everything went according to plan, and when the Ministry officials came the next morning, they left as empty-handed as they had arrived.

The next five months passed in a blur. Andromeda was not sure how she survived it—she no longer needed to worry about Nymphadora, who was safe under her protection, but now her husband was parts unknown and Andromeda had no way of getting in touch with him. From time to time, he managed to send them coded letters, and eventually Andromeda began to listen to Potterwatch, the resistance’s underground radio station.

Remus appeared on Potterwatch as “Romulus,” and the first time she heard his voice emanating from the radio, she nearly jumped for joy (yet another activity unbecoming of a woman of her dignity, though this past year had stressed Andromeda’s commitment to her dignity to a near breaking-point). Both Remus and Ted had essentially been out of contact for months now, and though Nymphadora had explained the troubles that she and Remus were having, news that her husband was still alive, and fighting, was invigorating. Nymphadora was due in a few weeks, and, she had confided in her mother, she hoped that the baby would bring Remus back home.

But then one cold night in late March, as Andromeda tuned into Potterwatch, Nymphadora sprawled on the couch, her belly enormous, she heard the words she always dreaded. Lee Jordan and Fred Weasley began the broadcast by reporting on the death of Bathilda Bagshot, and then proceeded to explain how Ted, traveling with two goblins and someone named Dean, had been murdered by Snatchers.

The entire world seemed to pause for an unspecified length of time, and Andromeda felt her stomach fall away as Nymphadora’s face registered the same shock. She couldn’t move to turn off the radio when the broadcast ended and the crackling static filled the room. There must be a mistake, she thought over and over again. She must have heard it wrong—not Ted Tonks, but Tom Tonks, Ted’s brother. Not Ted, not her Ted.

It was, she believed, the worst day of her life, and that was including quite a few terrible days.

The next three weeks passed in a dream. She got up, made breakfast, cleaned the house, made lunch, read a book, made dinner … But if felt more like going through the motions. Worry had been replaced by a sort of icy frozenness; grief stayed at the margins of her life unless she paused for a moment to remember what had been, for a few minutes, out of her mind. Business was the only thing that kept her from bursting into tears every few minutes, and Andromeda did not like to burst into tears.

The day after the Potterwatch broadcast listing describing Ted’s death, Remus appeared at their doorstep. He said nothing, but Andromeda could see that he knew, that he grieved for them, and with them, for Ted had been his family, too, even if he had barely known his father-in-law. Andromeda, too, said nothing, for it was easier to ignore the most obvious facts and focus on what it would take to survive the next hour, and then the next day, and then the next week, and then the next month. Time slowed to a crawl, and the only thing that restored a semblance of her hope for her family was that Remus and Nymphadora seemed more in love than she had ever seen them, at least for the time being.

Remus doted on Nymphadora for three weeks straight, bringing her everything she needed, and a good deal that she did not. Andromeda busied herself making clothes for the baby, who finally arrived two weeks and five days after Ted’s death, on the day after Easter. Nymphadora named him Ted, after his grandfather, and Remus, after his father.

Little Ted had a mop of black hair, but an hour or so after he was born, it changed suddenly to ginger. Andromeda laughed, as Nymphadora had done the same thing; but hers had turned to pink. "Another Metamorphmagus in the family," she noted, smiling at her daughter, who grinned back.

Remus disappeared for nearly half an hour, and when he returned, elated, he announced that Harry Potter had agreed to be little Ted’s godfather.

Remus was clearly overjoyed with his new family, and Andromeda finally lost all reservations about his status as a werewolf. She had to admit that she shared Remus's concern: she didn't want any accidents to happen her to her daughter or grandson, and although Remus was always careful and always seemed to have his heart in the right place, accidents did happen. But Remus clearly adored Nymphadora and little Ted. The most important thing, she decided, was that he loved her daughter, and their son; and that was clearly the case. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen Remus so happy, as he usually had a withdrawn look that indicated he was thinking of something ominous, and he had a tendency to think ominous thoughts quite often.

Two weeks later, Nymphadora was back on her feet. Then, in the middle of the night, they received a Patronus from someone in the Order, telling them that battle was brewing at Hogwarts. Nymphadora and Remus took barely a second to think before handing Teddy, as they now called him, over to Andromeda and Apparating off to Hogwarts.

It was only when Hagrid and Harry showed up on her doorstep the following evening, looking exhausted, bruised, and injured, that Andromeda realized they would never come back.

Andromeda abandoned all pretense of dignity, and cried into Harry’s shoulder (as she could not reach Hagrid’s). That night, after they had left her with some food and drink and Teddy to look after, Andromeda pulled her hairpin out as she got ready for bed. She did not know if she would be able to sleep, but she thought that, for Teddy’s sake, she ought to at least try. He was going to need looking after, now that he had no one else but her. And his godfather Harry Potter, she supposed, but she didn’t trust Harry yet.

The pin was formed in the shape of a snake. Andromeda was proud of her house, despite the fact that her entire family, except Sirius, had been in Slytherin; she was proud of what many good Slytherins had accomplished. Yes, many Slytherins had joined Lord Voldemort, but there were many Slytherins who had defied him as well. The Slytherins who had not followed in their housemates' footsteps were, Andromeda thought, the bravest of those who had defied Lord Voldemort. Harry and the rest of the Order of the Phoenix had not had to stand up to their friends, their family, their classmates, in order to choose the right side; Harry and the Order had never seen a choice in the matter, which made any decisions they might have to make infinitely easier.

Harry had told her what her sister Narcissa had done, how she had lied to Voldemort in order to save Harry, to give Harry another chance to defeat Lord Voldemort. She had done so, Harry explained, out of love and fear and worry for her son and the rest of her family.

In a night of terrible things, Andromeda could not help but smile, slightly to be sure, but smile through her tears. She had lost so much of her family, but it sounded like she might have found some new family, too, if Cissy could be called new. Andromeda had not spoken to either of her sisters in decades, now, but she thought she might try.

Of course, when Harry had told her what her _other_ sister had done, Andromeda cursed her family once again. Voldemort had torn her entire family asunder, pitting sister against sister, cousin against cousin, father against daughter and mother against son. Her only ally in her family, Sirius, had been killed by her sister; and now her sister had killed her daughter and son-in-law, too. Andromeda had escaped as soon as she could, but for a long, long time, Sirius had been the only sane family member she had known; and when it appeared that he, too, had turned to the Dark Side, Andromeda had nearly given up on the Blacks and the rest of her extended family.

But, Harry claimed, Sirius was _not_ the only Black to defy Lord Voldemort—Regulus had played an important role too, though Harry didn't explain, and Andromeda couldn't bear to ask. Narcissa, as well; and Andromeda herself, along with Nymphadora and Remus.

And Harry explained about Snape, too, though he seemed to skip over a few details; but he explained how Snape had defied Lord Voldemort in the end, and how he had done his House proud.

For so many people, for so long, it had seemed a war of the Hogwarts Houses—Slytherins against Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws trying to stay out of it but getting sucked in to the Gryffindors' war. But it wasn't all about Houses, as Andromeda well knew; she had been in Slytherin herself, though she hated the members of her House who had joined Lord Voldemort and decimated her family. Narcissa had been a Slytherin, Regulus had been a Slytherin, Snape had been a Slytherin; if anything, the Slytherins who opposed Lord Voldemort needed to band together, to ensure that the next round of Slytherins didn't fall into the trap of power that had consumed the rest of Andromeda's relatives, and so many others.

She would wear her Slytherin pin proudly, Andromeda decided; and she would do everything she could to help clean up her House, to ensure that the Slytherin values worth keeping—ambition, cleverness, survival against all odds—were the values that survived into the new wizarding world, and that the values that had led to the First Wizarding War and now the Second Wizarding War would be forgotten, cast aside with the rest of the rubbish. Slytherin House would be rebuilt, not as the bastion of terror that it had been, but as a House of honor, ambition, and tolerance.

She would start with Teddy.

***

Eleven years later and a hundred miles away, an old woman arrived at Azkaban. The moon was a mere sliver in the sky, casting barely enough light to see by, but the woman seemed to prefer it that way. She clutched a cloak to her sides and hid her face in the folds of the hood, as though she couldn’t bear to admit that she was visiting the prison. She appeared out of nowhere on the dirt road leading to the guard tower in the mainland. To Muggle eyes, it might have appeared an abandoned lighthouse, haunted by ghosts the surrounding community had long forgotten.

“Hey, Dorian,” one of the guards in the tower said, pointing down at the road. “It’s her, again.”

The other guard chortled and heaved himself up from his chair. He thudded slowly down the stairs, shaking his head the whole time. “Crazy old witch …” he muttered to himself as he went.

The woman didn’t hear them. It was better that way; she was only forty, not really old, but the years had weighed heavily on her. Nonetheless, she moved with a sure step towards the guard tower, and knocked on the gate.

The gates swung open before her, and the woman entered silently. The guards didn’t try to speak to her; they had learned, in the last eleven years, that it was useless to try, as she never responded, not even to tell them her name.

“Your turn, Murdoch,” Dorian said, smirking. “Have fun!”

Murdoch growled under his breath about the crazies who came to visit family or friends in Azkaban, but he nonetheless readied the boat and brought the oars. The woman sat down on the bench opposite Murdoch, facing the guard but saying nothing. The hood of her cloak hid her face, still; Murdoch wondered briefly what she looked like, but he supposed it didn’t matter—they could recognize her easily enough, as she always wore the same, now-tattered, cloak to these little visits of hers.

He flicked his wand, and with a jerk the oars began to row themselves and the boat moved away from the dock and into the ocean, squinting as the wind picked up and salt sprayed into his eyes.

The silence stretched uncomfortably between them. The woman stared at him, or at least, Murdoch thought she was looking at him, but all he could really tell was the general direction her head was pointing. He shifted around in his seat, studiously looking everywhere but at her. Luckily, the moon was low in the sky, at about head level, and reflected off the sea, giving him the perfect target for his attention. One perk of the job, Murdoch supposed, was he got to work in such a beautiful place. The guard tower, at any rate, was beautiful; the prison itself, he would rather never set foot in.

The boat brought them swiftly toward the dock on the island of Azkaban. Murdoch lit his wand and watched for the corresponding signal from the guard at the dock. After a few minutes, he became worried; the guard on duty still hadn’t responded by lighting her own wand, and Murdoch couldn’t very well land on the forbidden island without confirmation. But there—a moment later, he caught sit of a silvery glow bobbing toward the dock, and he let out a sigh of relief.

They rushed toward the docks, and when they were a few hundred feet away, he muttered, “Finite incantatem.” The spell pushing the boat forward ended, though the boat glided forward still. It had been going fast enough that by the time they were forty or fifty feet from the dock, they were going at a comfortably slow pace. He could set the boat on autopilot and get it to the general vicinity of the docks without trouble, but the spell had more trouble docking, which required a degree of finesse that the spell didn’t have.

Mudoch grabbed the oars and guided them carefully into the dock. Rollins, the guard on the island, helped them out of the boat. The woman said nothing, but she nodded her head in thanks. Murdoch watched her climb the stone steps cut into the side of the cliff. A rickety wooden handrail prevented her from falling to her death, but the woman didn’t need it.

Once the woman had disappeared into the darkness at the top of the cliff, Murdoch returned to the boat and set it off towards the mainland with a quick flick of his wand. Rollins would take her back to the mainland when she was ready.

As always, he refused to glance back at the prison itself, a fortress of towering rock and steel that formed a black shadow against the red of the setting sun.

The woman followed the stone path without hesitation. She had traveled it many times before; she had been coming here for the past eleven years, ever since _he_ had been imprisoned at the end of the war. Shortly after her birthday, she would come, and occasionally around Christmas. He usually mocked her about it; he didn't know who she was, or why she came. She didn’t know why she came, either, nor what good it would do. But she felt she had to—after all, he was her father, even if he didn’t know it. Even if she hadn’t known it, growing up; even if she had only figured it out about fifteen years ago, and then had been so ashamed of the fact that she had said nothing of it to anyone. Her own mother might have understood, but given what her mother had done ... She wasn't sure she would have had the courage to ask her mother, even had her mother still been alive.

She walked up the steps to the prison slowly, the moon glinting off the sea spray on the steps. The guards at the gate hurried to their feet as she approached; it took only a quick flick of their wands to verify her identity, and then they let her pass.

Azkaban was like no other place in the wizarding world. The atrium was beautiful, the floors and walls made of obsidian that glinted darkly in the torchlight like a sea of fire. Directly across the atrium, a set of iron bars locked firmly into the floor and the ceiling separated the atrium from the prison proper. Four guards leaned against the walls near the gate, gazing distractedly at the wall or nodding off to sleep. Azkaban’s security had quintupled in the years since the Second Wizarding War; as the Dementors were no longer employed by the Ministry of Magic, humans now had the onerous task of standing outside cells that were never unlocked, feeding prisoners who were frequently dangerous even behind bars, and escorting relatives to the prison cells.

Next to the giant portcullis, several couches had been placed in the semblance of a waiting area, beneath a sign reading “Reception”. The woman headed towards the couches, her heels clicking against the polished floor. As she approached, one of the guards left his post to knock on the hatch in the wall. The woman sat down to wait.

A few minutes later, the warden emerged, and puffed his way over to the reception area. “Hello, there,” he greeeted her amiably. She didn’t respond in kind. He was used to this; many of the people who came to Azkaban were embarrassed to know anyone who had spent time in the prison. “And who are you here to visit?” he asked, though he was fairly sure he knew the answer already—he thought he recognized her, she came every year; and he had been installed as a guard immediately after the turnover from Dementor to human hands. The first few times, she had brought a young child with her, but then one year she left the child behind and the girl had never come back.

“Fenrir,” the woman muttered, clutching her cloak closer about her as though she didn’t even want to utter the man’s name.

The warden nodded and stepped back. He flicked his wand, and the portcullis began to rise with a screeching, grinding noise. The woman didn’t move until the portcullis had receded into the ceiling.

Two guards approached her. She stood slowly and took a few steps toward the portcullis. The guards flanked her as she walked beneath the gate and down the hallway. The portcullis closed behind her, but the woman didn’t seem to notice.

The first hallway was devoid of prisoners; doors off the hallway led to the guards’ lounge area, the housekeeping equipment, the cafeteria. A visiting room was available, as well, but the Dementors had locked it before abandoning Azkaban, and in the last eleven years no one had succeeded at opening it. A second portcullis guarded the end of the hallway, which one of the guards opened with a silent swish of his wand.

Each floor becoming darker and dustier, as though the housekeepers started at the bottom every day but never reached the top of the seven-story building. Eventually, they arrived at a cell on the top floor, in the corner. The woman recognized some of the prisoners, from the papers, but many she didn’t know. On the top floor, though, were kept the most highly guarded prisoners, those who would never set foot outside Azkaban again. The top four floors were mostly occupied by Death Eaters, many of whom the woman recognized, from the papers and from her previous visits. The Carrows were there, Crabbe, Jugson, Rodolphus Lestrange, Nott, Rowle ... floors and floors were filled with Death Eaters. They watched her silently, knowing that she was heading towards Fenrir. Even in prison, even among the Death Eaters, no one wanted to antagonize Fenrir.

The guards stepped back when they arrived at Fenrir’s cell, and the woman stood in front of the bars, cloak wrapped around herself tightly.

Something in the cell stirred. “You know,” a gruff voice said, “at least there’s one purpose in you coming here. I know when a year has passed.”

The woman opened her mouth as though to speak, and then closed it again.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Fenrir said, emerging from the darkness. His hair was matted and long, and what had once been brown had turned to gray. “Nothing? No plea to reform my ways, no statement that you believe I’m a good person despite everything, no lies that you came here to see someone else and just happened to stop by my cell?”

She shook her head. “I came to see you, as always,” she said, her voice hoarse.

Fenrir laughed, a maniacal laugh. “Yes, yes, that you did, that you always do. Not going to bring that kid back, are you?” he said hungrily. "She could join our forces, you know ..."

The woman closed her eyes. “No, she’s going to stay safely away.”

Fenrir lunged at the bars, yelling wordlessly, but clanged against the metal. He reached out towards the woman, but grasped at the air a few inches in front of her and yelled in fury. The woman didn’t even blink; he had tried this before, and she had learned how far he could reach.

“Why are you here?” Fenrir bellowed. He sank back down towards the floor, and instead of reaching for the woman, grasped the bars. “Why do you always come? Why are you here?”

This was the year, she knew it. She always came with the intention of telling him, but never managed to find the words. She _always_ thought it was the year, but it never was ... She hesitated, her hands grasping at the edges of her cloak. She swallowed. She had come here tonight to say it, because she couldn’t bear him not knowing any longer. Sentimental, her mother would have told her; give up on him. But she couldn’t. Her mother hadn’t grown up not knowing who her own father was.

“I am your daughter,” she said in a rush.

Fenrir stared at her for a second, large black eyes unblinking. Then he laughed again, the maniacal laugh that signalled he was at the very edge of sanity, if he had not plunged over it long ago. “You lie,” he said, still laughing. He grabbed the bars and rattled them as best he could, managing a few menacing clunks.

The woman gulped. “I do not,” she said, straightening up. “I never lie.” Well, she tried to never lie, even if it didn’t always work out that way.

Fenrir rolled his eyes and snarled at her. “And why should I believe you? Why should I care? Even if you _were_ my daughter, what should that matter?”

He bared his teeth and licked his lips. "Unless you're going to bring that girl back."

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. She opened it again. He was perhaps the most horrifying person she had ever met; why, she wondered for the hundredth time, did she actually want him to know who she was. “Because you knew my mother, a long time ago."


	2. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While his grandmother is at work at the Ministry, Teddy takes the opportunity to slip off to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. He meets some future classmates, and incurs the wrath of his grandmother.

Slightly more than eleven years had passed since Andromeda Tonks first moved her grandson’s crib from his mother’s room to her own, and in that time a great deal about the house had changed. The sun rose on a long-abandoned garden whose most distinctive feature was the great abundance of gnomes that now inhabited it; it crept into the living room, which was no longer spotless, and which hadn’t been for many years. Andromeda had at long last given up her desire for perfect cleanliness, finding it impossible with the boy who now inhabited the house.

The photographs on the mantle were all from the past eleven years, and showed the evolution of a blue-haired boy from a screaming, squirming infant, into a three-year old riding his first broom, into a six-year old running around the zoo with his younger cousin, and into an eleven-year old who had not managed to acquire a capacity to sit still for photographs. Lining the walls, there were photographs of a happy, middle-aged couple, holding their daughter in their arms, visiting relatives in Selkirk, and walking in the garden. These photographs were still there, but had been overshadowed by more and more photographs of the sometimes blue-haired boy, holding his first cat, or ripping apart the pages of a book in a tantrum, or sledding down the hill.

Andromeda Tonks remembered her daughter never so strongly as when she was attempting to bring her grandson out of the slumber that he, and his mother, had both shown a talent for. If anything, Andromeda thought, Teddy Lupin would become a champion at rising late, just as his mother had been before him. But this time around, she was resigned to this fate, and let him sleep in as late as he wanted, unless they had to be somewhere.

“Teddy, are you awake yet?” she shouted towards the third floor of the house, where Teddy's room was tucked away into a corner. She had long ago decided that shouting was one of the only ways in which to get Teddy's attention, and that dignity was not necessary within her own house. Outside the house, at the Ministry, she still refrained from shouting; but at home it was acceptable, on occasion.

He had filled all the rooms on the previous floors with toys, and was now relegated to the very top of the house.

As it usually was, his grandmother’s voice was the first sound Teddy heard. He rolled over. “Sleeping,” he muttered into his pillow, and dragged the covers up over his ears.

“What? What did you say?”

“I’M STILL ASLEEP!” he yelled back, piling two more pillows over his head. He had been in the middle of a dream; it had had something to do with a sword, he thought, a sword that he had handed over to a dragon. He hadn’t wanted to give it up, but the dragon collected treasure, so much treasure, and this was the only way …

“Treasure,” he murmured. Treasure was very nice, he thought; all glittery and ancient, and he could sell it to Mundungus Fletcher and get a few extra Galleons to spend on some exploding snap cards … The dragon held up a deck of exploding snap cards and bellowed in triumph. I have found the greatest treasure of all, a voice boomed in Teddy’s head.

His grandmother was back outside the door.

“Teddy, hurry up!” she shouted. Teddy bolted upright and rammed his head into the ceiling.

“Ow!” he howled, but it was mostly for his grandmother’s benefit. Gran very rarely shouted, and when she did it was almost always to scold Teddy for doing one thing or another that he usually didn’t intend, things that just had a way of happening.

“What?” he snapped back.

This was not a very good start to the morning.

“We have to be at the Ministry in fifteen minutes, and you haven’t had breakfast yet,” she called through the door, no longer shouting.

The Ministry — how could he have forgotten? Teddy slid off the top bunk and dropped to the floor. He rummaged under his bed for a pair of socks, and found two mismatched ones that looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in weeks. Teddy was used to finding dirty socks throughout his room because, as his Gran said, his room looked rather like a miniature explosion of clothes, toys, books, and broken brooms (buildings had a nasty habit of suddenly appearing out of nowhere when Teddy was flying).

When he was dressed he raced down the four flights of stairs to the kitchen. He had been relegated to the top floor only last year, when his Gran had claimed that the first three bedrooms he had had—one on each floor of the tall, rickety house—had become unfit for habitation. They had filled up with the toys and presents given to him by Gran and his endless supply of relatives (he had nine cousins already, though Hugo Weasley was only a year and a half old). Both Gran and Harry, his godfather, seemed determined to make sure that Teddy never went a holiday without a present.

Teddy didn’t usually think about it, but when he did, he supposed his cousins weren’t _actually_ cousins. His _real_ cousins were the sort that Harry’s family didn’t like to associate with, so Teddy went over to the Malfoys’ for Christmas Eve, and occasionally Easter. His Gran’s sister had, according to Harry, mellowed out quite a bit since Teddy had been born; but Harry and Auntie Narcissa’s husband didn’t get on very well. Teddy tried not to mention is to his Gran, but he didn’t enjoy the dinners with the Malfoys.

Perhaps it was because he spent so much time at the Potters’ and the Weasleys’, but Teddy preferred zooming around on a broom with Harry, Ginny, and Uncle Ron, eating Mrs. Weasley’s cake, and even listening to Hermione drone on about house elf politics or the most recent goblin uprising to sitting through the awkward dinners with the Malfoys. Gran and Auntie Narcissa would stare at the wall over each others’ shoulders and talk stiffly about the weather, or occasionally about their childhood. They avoided topics like Teddy, family, history, family, politics and family as though they were the plague; and whenever the conversation seemed to skirt such a dangerous area, the weather become exceptionally fascinating again.

Teddy had never known the weather to be so interesting as it was on a Malfoy Day.

“Why can we not talk about all these things?” he remembered asking his Gran the very first time they went over to the Malfoys’. He had been four or five when his Gran announced that he had _other_ family besides the Potters and the Weasleys, and that they were going to go for a visit.

“But don’t talk about family, history, or politics,” she had instructed him.

“What’s politics?” Teddy had asked.

Not talking about politics with the Malfoys was a sure way to make for a very boring dinner. Of course, “boring” and “interesting” were not necessarily exact opposites: the one time Teddy had decided to ask Auntie Narcissa why her husband was facing an inquiry at work (Gran had told him explicitly _not_ to ask), there had been an awful lot of shouting and they had gone home early, the cake still uneaten. (If it weren’t for the cake, Teddy might have been glad of ending the dinner early; but the cake, and Gran’s furious face, had made him resolve not to ask about politics or history or family ever again on a Malfoy Day.)

The fireplace gave a whoosh just as Teddy entered the kitchen. Gran looked up. “Teddy, hair!” she said by way of greeting. “Oh, hello, Minerva, come on in, come on in …” A tall woman with grey hair and a severe expression stepped out of the fireplace and brushed a speck of soot off her shoulder.

Teddy slipped into the nearby bathroom and stared at his reflection. As near as he could tell, his hair had morphed into a red and orange mohawk, rather reminiscent of the spines of the dragon he had been dreaming about. His hair had a tendency to get away from him at night. He frowned, and his hair turned black and fell mostly flat against his head.

Gran and Minerva were exchanging kisses. “—and the goblins aren’t going to give in,” Minerva was saying when Teddy returned to the kitchen.

“Crumpet?” Gran asked, shoving the plate out of Teddy’s reach and replacing his with a pile of scrambled eggs.

“Oh, yes, thank you …”

Minerva took a crumpet, coughed, and changed the subject. Teddy glowered at his eggs. Adults were always doing that, changing the subject when he came into the room.

He shoveled food into his mouth. Maybe if he left the room, they would keep talking, and he could Morph his ears into owl ears and listen in.

“Chew your food,” Gran said.

It had been a good plan, Teddy thought as he slowly finished off the rest of his eggs. Gran and Minerva went off on the unseasonable weather—it had been extremely hot of late, and the Ministry had had to send out a whole crew of magical maintenance workers just to fix the number of misapplied Downpour Charms. Arthur Weasley had led the entire Department of the Misuse of Muggle and Magical Artefacts out to fix jinxed sprinkler systems.

The moment Teddy put down his fork, Gran instructed him to put on some decent clothes, so Teddy climbed the three flights of stairs to his bedroom and dug around in the closet for a rumpled collared shirt and a set of dress robes that, according to Gran, could only pass as dress robes because he was eleven. The robes looked fine to Teddy, but Gran had an eye for stains, and claimed that all of Teddy’s robes were covered in dirt and several years’ worth of spilled dinners.

Teddy snuck down the stairs as quietly as he could, but Gran spotted him immediately.

“Off we go, then!” she said.

Minerva went first, grabbing a fistful of Floo powder and whooshing off to the Ministry. “You next, then,” Gran said.

Teddy had half a mind to go to the Potters’ instead, but Gran evidently knew what he was thinking. “The _Ministry_ , Teddy,” she said, raising one pencil-thin eyebrow.

“Ministry of Magic!” Teddy shouted into the fireplace, and soon he was spinning past fire grate after fire grate, until he fell out of onto the marble floor of the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

Minerva was waiting for him. She stared at him for a few moments, but Gran must have been doing a last minute clean-up, because the silence stretched on. “You’re starting Hogwarts this year, aren’t you?” Minerva asked.

Teddy nodded. “Got my letter in April,” he said. “But I still don’t know what books to buy or anything, and Gran won’t take me to Diagon Alley without the list.”

In truth, Gran wouldn’t let him near Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, not after what had happened last time—George had not appreciated Teddy stealing a good portion of his test firecrackers and setting them off in the middle of Diagon Alley. Aurors from the Ministry had shown up, wands out, believing for an instant that Lord Voldemort had returned, and George had been given an official warning that if he ever disturbed the peace again, the Ministry would have to shut down the shop.

“Do they really think I’ll ever _stop_ disturbing the peace?” George had muttered to Teddy, right before his grandmother had shown up and given him a talking-to. She had even threatened to send him a Howler at school that she forced Teddy to attend, but he had reminded her that Muggles weren’t used to Howlers, and that she would violate the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy if she sent him a Howler during lunch time.

“I used to teach at Hogwarts,” Minerva said, wearing a nostalgic smile.

Teddy was not in the mood for nostalgia, so it was lucky that Gran showed up a moment later.  
“Sorry about that,” Gran said, brushing off her shoulders. “Teddy got a bit of ash on the carpet on the way out.” She swung her purple purse over her shoulder and straightened up. “Thank you again, Minerva, for taking us. The Ministry has changed so much since the last time I did this …”

“Oh, not at all,” Minerva said as she and Gran started walking off toward the lifts.

They took a lift down to the second level. Minerva showed them down to the end of the hallway, where they bore right. A large banner said, “Welcome to the Improper Use of Magic Office!” in flashing purple and green.

It was the busiest Ministry Office Teddy had ever seen. It must have contained fifty cubicles, and witches and wizards rushed about from one to the other, usually carrying large stacks of paper and harried expressions. Paper airplanes zipped along the ceiling and every once in a while dive-bombed a witch or wizard. One particularly clumsy wizard was rushing about when one of the airplanes hit him on the nose, knocking off his glasses and causing him to lose his balance and dump his whole stack of papers on the floor.

On to the wall to the right was a small waiting area, but Minerva didn’t look like she intended them to sit down. Instead, she led them to the tiny front office, which had been squished in a corner to make way for an extra cubicle. The wizard behind the desk had a long, thin nose, and was frantically snatching paper airplanes out of the air and tapping them with his wand until they lay still.

“Good morning,” the wizard said very quickly, looking up from the stack of flattened paper airplanes. Teddy peered over the top of the counter. The wizard shoved the stack of notes away, though, and Teddy reluctantly stared at his nose instead. “How can I help you today?”

He spoke so rapidly that Teddy almost couldn’t understand him.

“Hello, Hawkins,” Minerva said, leaning forward and peering over the top of her spectacles.

The wizard jumped. “Professor McGonagall! How … er, lovely to see you again!”

“Still got your teacup, I presume?”

The wizard turned bright red. “I — er, yes, it is still a teacup. I have been practising, though!”

Minerva sighed. “Hawkins, I do believe I have never failed so fully as a professor except in the teaching of Transfiguration to you. If you care to meet me after the Wizengamot today, I could give you an extra lesson …”

Hawkins blushed again. “I, er, I have to work—”

Gran coughed delicately. “We need to register my grandson as a Metamorphmagus,” she interrupted.

The wizard looked relieved that the conversation with Minerva was over. “Yes, er, head straight to Turpin’s office, first aisle, turn left, then right, then second left.”

Teddy stared at the wizard, baffled. “Do you expect us to remember all that?” he asked, before he could stop himself.

“Teddy,” Gran scolded, but she ruffled his hair as Minerva led them into the maze of cubicles. They only got lost once, which was a miracle, as far as Teddy was concerned. Minerva knew half the witches and wizards in the office, but after it took them ten minutes to get down the first aisle, Gran politely reminded Minerva that they were due at the Wizengamot in half an hour.

One of the paper airplanes mistook Teddy for its intended recipient, and hit him straight on the nose. Teddy had only read the name when Gran snatched it out of his hand and sent it aloft with a tap of her wand. She claimed he had morphed his hair on purpose to look like Roger Midgeley, but Teddy had no idea who that was; and in any case, he had never been terribly good at matching his hair look like other people.

They finally arrived at a tiny office in the back corner of the room. It was the only office that was not engulfed in a flurry of activity; the small, bespectacled witch behind the desk seemed buried in a game of Sizzling Solitaire and didn’t notice them come up.

Lisa Turpin, the name on the plaque read. Lisa chose a card and moved it over to a different column. A different card started smoking at the edges. “You should have picked this one,” Teddy said helpfully, pointing out the better choice. She managed to fix her mistake before the correct card burst into flames.

“Hello, there,” Minerva said disapprovingly.

“Professor McGonagall!” Lisa Turpin exclaimed, brushing the cards aside. “I—er, are you here to register as an Animagus?”

“No,” Gran said, “but I’m here to register my grandson, Teddy Lupin, as a Metamorphmagus.”

Lisa peered at him curiously. “Seriously? I’ve never registered one of you before!”

Teddy morphed his hair neon blue.

They filled out a good deal of paperwork, and Teddy signed his name more times than he could count. Lisa filed it all away in one of the emptiest file cabinets Teddy had ever seen—it contained only two other folders. There was a different cabinet for Animagi, Lisa explained; it had grown significantly in recent years, as the Ministry had cracked down on unregistered Animagi since the fall of Lord Voldemort. “I’ve been properly registered for sixty-three years,” Minerva announced proudly.

When they had finished with the paperwork, Gran and Minerva left Teddy with Arthur Weasley while they went off to the Wizengamot. Gran had joined the court six years ago, the same time as Minerva, who had retired from her post as Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts. They had been good friends ever since, and Minerva came over for tea at least once a month. Teddy always enjoyed these teas, because it meant he could attempt to listen in on their conversations about secret dealings of the court; lately, though, Gran had been especially careful that Teddy couldn’t overhear anything important.

Arthur Weasley gave him a pile of Muggle artefacts to identify; he knew that Teddy attended a Muggle school during the year, and when Teddy was over for dinner he spent most of the time asking Teddy about Muggle technology. When Teddy had finished going through the pile, he took his chance, and yawned very loudly and pointedly.

“I’m tired,” he said, slouching down into his chair. “Could I maybe take a nap, just over there …”

He pointed to the fireplace.

“Oh yes, of course,” Arthur said. A witch approached with a croaking water bottle. “Thank you, Murgatroyde, I’ll fix that in a minute—”

The witch left the water bottle, which let out a belch, on Arthur’s desk. Teddy slipped over to the chair by the fireplace. He had seen the flower pot containing Floo powder when he came in, and grabbed a handful, stuffing it into his robes. He leaned back in the chair, watching while Arthur examined the croaking water bottle. It gave a _ribbit_ , and a long tongue forked out and attached itself to Arthur's nose.

Arthur was valiantly battling the water bottle, so Teddy grabbed his fistful of Floo powder, tossed it into the fire, and said, “Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes!”

He began to spin very quickly, and several grates later, fell out onto the floor of George’s joke shop.

It was just as fantastic as Teddy remembered. Toys were everywhere, letting off noises, exploding into showers of feathers or sparks or bits of parchment, and disappearing with a snap. There was the love potion section, surrounded by a group of giggling teenage girls; the firecracker section, which contained ever more types of fireworks than Teddy remembered—Galloping Gargoyles, Giant Giants, Eighteen Wheelers (which appeared to be eighteen Catherine wheels joined together), and thirty-nine different types of dragon. Teddy picked up a trick wand, which turned into a miniature Blast-Ended Skrewts (he dropped that one very quickly, and found another which burst into a shower of leprechaun Galleons).

He had no idea how long it would take Arthur to notice that he was gone, but Teddy moved far away from the fireplace just in case. He climbed the stairs to the back of the shop, where George had expanded his line of Portable Swamps into Portable Duck Ponds, Portable Prairies (“Complete with prairie dogs!” Teddy read, just as he saw a prairie dog poking its head up from the grass), Portable Coral (“For use in bathtubs only”), and Portable Mountains (“Creates a realistic mountain that fills your empty space”). He was just checking out the Portable Tundra when a girl with long red hair edged into the aisle.

“Have you seen my mother around here?” she asked, glancing pointedly around.

Teddy shook his head.

“Thank goodness,” the girl sighed, going over to stand next to him. “She never lets me come in here, thinks I’m going to burn down the house or something.”

Teddy laughed. “My grandmother says the same thing.”

“Portable Tundra?”

Teddy shrugged. “I’ve seen the Portable Swamp a hundred times, and my Gran would kill me if I brought home a Portable Mountain.”

The girl smiled. “I snuck one of those Corals into the bathtub once, my mum couldn’t get it out for ages and ages. It was brilliant.”

Teddy picked up one of the Corals and looked at it more closely. It looked like a snow globe, with tiny fish swimming among a coral reef. “There’s sixteen different kinds of coral in there, I counted,” she said.

“ _Leandra Stone!_!”

The girl startled, knocking the Portable Coral out of Teddy’s hand. It exploded over the ground and expanded rapidly to fill the shelves. The fish flopped around in the water that started gushing out of one of the brain corals; Teddy scooped them up and stuck them back into the globe, where there was still plenty of water. They shrank to miniscule sized, but seemed a little bewildered by the sudden lack of habitat.

“Mother!” the girl, Leandra, exclaimed. She moved a few steps over to obscure the coral reef that now filled most of the aisle.

A tall, severe-looking witch with hair that matched Leandra’s stood at the far end of the aisle. “You come here this instant, Leandra,” she shouted. “How many times have I told you not to come in here—”

Leandra gave Teddy a miserable look as she followed her mother away from the aisle, stepping carefully over the coral. “Sorry,” she mouthed.

Teddy shrugged. There wasn’t much to be done about the coral; he knew he ought to tell George what had happened, but since he wasn’t even supposed to be in Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes in the first place, that would just get him into trouble. He did find the last fish, though, and put it safely back into the globe before leaving the aisle.

“Wow,” a voice behind him said.

Teddy turned. Two identical twin boys with black hair and blue eyes had come into the aisle after Leandra Stone had left, and were staring at him, looking awed.

“That was brilliant,” one of them said.

“You talked—” the other began.

“—to a girl!” the first finished.

They grinned at him. “We’re Andy and Alex Towler,” the first said, sticking out a hand. Teddy shook it uncertainly.

“We’re starting Hogwarts next year,” the second, Alex, said. “Looking for some good Portables to bring. Looks like the coral works out pretty well.”

The twins peered into the aisle. Teddy laughed. “Er, yeah, it definitely works pretty well. The fish are even alive.”

The Towler boys grinned again. It was a little unnerving, how they did that, everything at the same time. “I—shouldn’t be here,” Teddy said, and started edging around them.

“Neither should we,” they said in unison, and followed Teddy away from the coral.

“I’m starting Hogwarts next year, too,” Teddy said. “Teddy Lupin, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Teddy,” one of them said—he thought it was Andy. “Come, look, we found these really cool boxes of sweets—”

They led Teddy around to their favorite spots in the shop, through the sweets section, to the Distractor Den, to the firecrackers. Teddy vaguely remembered some of it from two years ago, the last time he had been allowed in; but George had greatly expanded his selection in the past two years, and Teddy was amazed at the variety. There were Hogwarts students every way they turned, buying Fanged Frisbees, Sparking Goblets, DinoWands, boxes and boxes of sweets.

Teddy saw George at one point, dressed in bright magenta robes and scanning the crowds quickly. Teddy morphed his hair a nice, dull brown and ducked his head, until he saw a pair of magenta-covered legs moving away. He let his hair slip back to its bright blue state.

“I hear,” one of the twins said in a low voice, “that Weasley is opening up a new branch in Hogsmeade!”

Teddy grinned. “So we can get this stuff _all_ the time?” He picked up a box of Glitter Gum that made the chewer sparkle, and set it back down. It sounded a little creepy. But the Puking Pastilles sounded useful, if not, perhaps, his favorite method of getting out of class. And the Sugar Quills would be excellent—Ron had told him that History of Magic was exceptionally boring.

The twins nodded in unison. “Except we aren’t allowed off the grounds until third year …”

“Clearly,” Teddy said, “we’re just going to have to find ways to get out before then.”

The first twin (Andy, Teddy thought) grinned. “I was hoping you would say that.”

***

After about an hour of wandering around the shop, Teddy was almost starting to wonder if his grandmother or Arthur Weasley had forgotten about him; he rather would have expected to be caught by now, but the only indication so far that anyone missed him was George’s slightly worried expression, and Teddy merely assumed that George’s worry was directed in his direction. So it came as only a slight shock when the entire shop went foggy and a shower of red sparks appeared over his head, accompanied by a loud fog horn.

Alex and Andy burst into laughter as Teddy attempted to sidestep the sparks, but every time he did so, the fog horn went off again.

George appeared moments later, laughing as well. “Been wanting to try that for ages,” he said merrily, and with a swish of his wand ended the spell. The fog lifted, the sparks were gone, and Teddy no longer bugled every time he moved.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” George said, going to stand at the balcony. Everyone looked up. “That was a demonstration of our new Child-Proof Fiend Finder, a tool for parents to find their missing children!”

A few of the parents muttered amongst themselves, and several of them looked interested. “Stay here,” George told Teddy, and he did.

Andy and Alex were staring at him. “You _know_ Mr. Weasley?” they asked in awe.

Teddy shrugged. “He’s my god-uncle-in-law.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Is that a thing?”

Teddy shrugged again. “Well, I’ve got one—actually, five of them. Though sometimes I can’t figure whether I should call them god-uncles-in-law or god-brothers-in-law, and how about my god-grandparents-in-law?”

Andy and Alex looked at each other, and then burst out laughing. “Sounds complicated, mate,” Andy said, clapping Teddy on the shoulder.

George reappeared. “Better than a Howler,” he said, still chuckling to himself.

The Towler twins straightened to attention. “Good morning, Mr. Weasley,” they said in unison.

“Good morning, boys,” George replied. “Now, run along before your mother knows I’ve talked to you, or she won’t let you come back in here.”

The Towler twins ran off. Teddy and George watched them go. “Those boys have talent,” George said when they had disappeared around the corner. “They are going to be right little trouble-makers, the most recent in a fine tradition.” He sighed, and turned to look at Teddy. “Your grandmother is furious, by the way. Sent me a Patronus and everything. You had better run along to the back, Ron’s there, helping make a few more Shield Hats …”

Ron was in the back, a pile of sorcerer's caps next to him. He raised his wand, muttered a spell that Teddy couldn't hear—he strongly suspected that adults purposely cast spells quietly when he was around, so that he wouldn't get any ideas—and plopped the hat on his head. "Definitely working," Teddy said by way of greeting.

He helped Ron with the Shield Hats and Shield Rings (“No one will see your hand in the cookie jar!”), though mostly it required Teddy to hold the hat or ring up and hope that Ron didn’t hit him with the spell. He suspected it would have been much easier if he’d just sit and watch, but Ron looked like he wasn’t about to let Teddy run off. Teddy knew for a fact that Ron was afraid of Gran, which might explain it.

His grandmother was indeed furious when she finally reappeared; her hair was all in a tussle, and she was still wearing her official Wizengamot pin, which she normally did not wear outside the Ministry. “Teddy Lupin!” she nearly hollered into the work room of the shop.

Teddy appeared somewhat reluctantly, hoping that if he looked remorseful enough, he might get away with it. He morphed his chin into a slightly longer version of itself, and grew his eyebrows a bit thicker in the middle. Gran didn’t buy it, and instructed him right off to fix his face; and that if he ever went running off again without telling anyone, he wouldn’t be going to Hogwarts.

“What?” Teddy asked when she mentioned Hogwarts. “I can’t go?”

Gran glared at him. “If and only if you learn to actually _follow the rules_ every now and then, young man!”

Her glower was extremely impressive.

“Well,” Teddy began, hoping to salvage as much as he could. “At least I went running off to relatives, right?”

If anything, she glowered even more.


	3. Godric's Hollow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's birthday party brings many relatives and a few surprises.

It was nearly a week before Gran let him leave the house again. Teddy did his very best to pretend to be angry about it, but it meant that Ron Weasley came over to watch him, and they spent all day playing Quidditch outside. Normally, Harry would have come over, and attempted to fulfill his godfatherly duties by giving Teddy an almost strict lecture about proper behavior and listening to his grandmother, but Harry was busy this week at the Ministry.

Teddy asked Ron at least five times a day why Harry hadn’t come over, but Ron refused to say anything. Instead, whenever Teddy raised the subject of Harry, Ron started to brood and drop hints that Harry was doing something stupid, and that was why he had to spend the week at the Ministry.

“Is he working on a case?” Teddy asked again as he and Ron walked out to the makeshift Quidditch pitch in the back of the Tonks’ house. Gran didn’t approve of Quidditch—she thought it was rather too violent for an eleven-year old—but the field was relatively large, and there were trees at either end that could stand in for the hoops. Ron and Harry were both determined to get Teddy on his House team—whichever House that ended up being—his first year at Hogwarts, so they played Quidditch nearly every time Teddy went over to the Potters’ or the Weasleys’. Teddy was no good at catching the Snitch, but according to Ron, he showed some promise at Keeping.

“Watch the Chaser’s eyes,” Ron shouted. Teddy hovered near the hoop and obediently watched Ron’s eyes, rather than the Quaffle, and caught the slight flick to the left that indicated Ron was about to throw towards the left tree.

He was already moving in that direction when the Quaffle plunged to the ground on his right

“What was that all about?” Teddy demanded, once he had retrieved the Quaffle. “You said watch your eyes—”

Ron laughed. “Never trust your opponent to do what they say they’re going to do.”

Teddy grumbled to himself about that as he flew back to guard the three trees they were using for hoops. Ron was being annoying on purpose, he knew, to try to make him a better Quidditch player; but that didn’t make it any less irritating.

He let Ron throw a few more Quaffles at him, and then tried again. “Harry’s working on a case?”

“Yes,” Ron shouted back darkly. He kicked off from the ground and flew up to hover in the center of the field, Quaffle in hand, while Teddy picked his spot to guard the center tree.

“What case?”

Ron tossed Teddy the Quaffle; he caught it easily, it didn’t even skim the outer branches of the tree. He chucked it back at Ron, who missed and had to go fetch the ball from the field below, again.

Ron flew back up to join him. “The case against Hermione.”

“Oh …” The Quaffle slipped through his fingers and it hit him straight on the forehead, Ron had thrown it so hard at him. Ron didn’t even apologize; he must have been very angry, Teddy thought, and decided to drop the subject for the time being.

It went like that for the entire week; every time Teddy mentioned Harry or Hermione, Ron would get angry. Ron never got farther than “Harry and Hermione are fighting,” or something to that effect; and the lack of information was bugging Teddy something fierce.

Harry would have told him what was going on, Teddy was sure; his godfather always told him about his cases, and about work, and about what was going on at the Ministry. Teddy knew this because he had a tendency to listen in on the adults’ conversations after dinner, and Harry never said anything contrary to what he had told Teddy in the open.

(Of course, Teddy wasn’t entirely sure whether Harry and the other adults knew he was listening in; they’d caught him once or twice and sent him off to bed, so they might have just assumed he’d be listening. He’d considered this possibility, but thought it unlikely, as they could just as easily put a Silencer Charm on the door and not have to worry about him listening in, at least until he convinced George to give him some of those ears.)

But as Ron was far more reluctant to talk than Harry would have been, and far more likely to get angry, Teddy didn’t manage to find out anything more. The week confined to his house was fun, but it was not as exciting as usual, and involved quite a few accidents with the Quaffle when Ron became angry. Teddy eventually pretended he wanted to look up some new techniques in _Quidditch Through the Ages_ , so as to avoid getting his third broken nose of the day; Ron was decent at the healing spell, but it still hurt.

When Gran finished explaining, for the tenth time, exactly what he had done wrong (which boiled down to not telling her where he had gone, as far as Teddy was concerned), she finally let up. “Off to the Potters tomorrow!” she said after the lecture over dinner on Friday night.

Teddy suppressed a smile. He had half thought that she wouldn’t let him go. “I don’t have a present, though,” he said, remembering. He had intended to get something at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, but had completely forgotten while he was there.

Gran smiled. “I thought you might, what with all the excitement over the Fiend Finder, and the Towler twins.” She reached under the table, where she had evidently stashed a box, and set it down next to him. “Some of the two-headed dragon firecrackers,” she said.

“No!” Teddy looked up at her. “Seriously? You actually _bought_ some?”

Gran nodded. “It was only a little obvious that you really, really liked them. And Harry enjoys fireworks, so we can set them off after the party.”

Teddy couldn’t believe his ears. Sometimes his Gran was a little strict, sometimes a little obsessed with straightening up the house, and sometimes a little boring; but she was _always_ a little insane, even if he could never quite tell whether that craziness was going to fall in his direction or not.

“Thank you,” he said as he started to eat the chicken pot pie again. He didn’t stop looking at the box, in case it disappeared.

***

They left late the next morning, Flooing to Godric’s Hollow around lunch time. It was Harry’s twenty-eighth, not an especially important birthday, but the house was already a hectic mess. James, Al, and Lily, Teddy’s cousins on the Potters’ side (he called them cousins, anyway, even though he supposed they were technically something like god-brothers and god-sisters) were running around the living room, stringing Muggle Christmas lights around the mantle. James was the first to notice Teddy rolling out of the fire grate, and he screeched, “Teddy!” and bowled Teddy over into his Gran, who appeared behind him.

They collapsed into the fireplace, the soot rising into the air with a little _poof_.

“Hi, James,” Teddy said, patting James on the head. “Do you mind getting off, now?”

James beamed up at him. Even at age seven, he looked just like Harry, though he had a certain Weasleyish trouble-making quality to his smile. “Come on, Teddy, Dad’s just got a new broom—Mum gave it to him, it goes a hundred and seventy eight miles an hour—”

He grabbed Teddy’s hand and practically dragged him up and out of the fireplace. Teddy stood, brushed the soot off, and helped his Gran up; she didn’t look too perturbed for having been covered head to foot in ash. She waved her wand and the soot floated off of her, gathered into a little cloud, and chased James around the room. “Hey!” he yelled, looking over his shoulder as he sprinted, until he crashed into his mother, who had come into the room with a plate of cookies.

“Ow …”

“Teddy!” Lily said, evidently taking her turn. She was significantly more delicate than usual, though; Teddy caught a furtive look at Gran, and he could practically hear her thinking that she didn’t want a cloud of soot to chase _her_ around the room. Al hung back, but Teddy gave him a quick hug, too.

“Where’s Harry?” he asked, falling onto one of the couches and grabbing a cookie. He looked around the room slowly, as though to see whether he had missed his godfather in all the fuss. The living room looked just as it always did, with the large fireplace, the mantle with all the pictures of the Potter kids, the green couches that formed a semi-circle around it.

Ginny was wiping the last little bit of soot off James’ nose. “Oh … somewhere …”

“Let me go!” James wriggled free of his mother’s ministrations. “Come on, Teddy, Dad’s new broom is _incredible_ , we’ve got to try it—”

“Don’t fly too high,” Ginny warned, “the neighbors might see!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Mum.”

“And be careful, Teddy—”

“Right, Gran …”

Teddy let himself be dragged out of the room and into the backyard. It needed to be weeded, but then, it always needed to be weeded. A garden gnome stuck his head around the corner of the fence, saw Teddy and James, and vanished with a little squeak. “We don’t have to go garden-gnoming, do we?” Teddy asked. He poked his head around the fence.

James wrinkled his nose. “Mum didn’t say.”

Teddy rather hated garden-gnoming; he always got bitten, and even though Gran could patch him right away, he didn’t really enjoy being bitten over and over again. They’d let their own garden go a bit, because of it; Teddy refused to go garden-gnoming at home, but he couldn’t say no if Ginny Potter or Mrs. Weasley asked and he was over at Godric’s Hollow or the Burrow. They might just refuse to feed him if he did.

“Teddy, you’re here already!”

“Harry!”

Teddy turned around just as Harry rounded the side of the house, broom in hand. It was clearly the new broom that James wanted to try out, because he dashed forward when his father appeared and snatched it out of his hand. Harry let him, laughing, and came over to stand next to Teddy.

“He’s going to be a Quidditch player,” Harry said after a few moments. James had jumped on the broom and was now zooming around the garden, shouting, “And Potter dodges Krum … Troy attempts to take him out, but Potter swerves … he chucks the Quaffle … and Wood misses, and it’s a score!”

“More like a Quidditch narrator,” Teddy replied.

James forgot to look where he was going, and hit a tree.

“Definitely a narrator,” Harry agreed. He strode over to his son. “You okay there, James? Maybe you should let Teddy have a go.”

James pouted, but handed the broom over to Teddy while his father picked a few pine needles out of his hair.

Harry and Ginny had taught Teddy to fly the moment they could find a broom small enough for him; both of them had played for their House team while in school, and Ginny was now a Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies. They had Snitches lying all over the house, and a few Quaffles, too. Although Harry never actually said it, Teddy had always gotten the feeling that both he and Ginny wanted him to play at school. At least, Teddy thought as he brushed the tops of the trees with his toes, they didn’t seem to care what House he was Sorted into; Ron had always been adamant that Gryffindor was the best, but Harry and Ginny and Hermione never told him which House they wanted him to be in.

Which was a good thing, Teddy thought, suddenly worried. He’d gotten his Hogwarts letter a few months ago, on his birthday in April; but he hadn’t gotten his school list yet. What if they decided that he couldn’t go after all? That he wasn’t magic enough? He’d done hardly any accidental magic—unless you counted Metamorphosing, which Teddy didn’t count, because it wasn’t accidental.

He just couldn’t help it, half the time.

Apparently, this was one of those times. “Teddy, your hair’s gone purple again,” Harry called. “What are you worrying about?”

Teddy flew to the ground and handed his godfather the broom. “Well … I haven’t gotten my list yet,” he confessed, scratching at the ground with a toe. “What if Professor Sprout doesn’t think I’ve got enough magic in me?”

Harry knelt down. “Teddy, I’m going to tell you a secret.” He paused, as though preparing some lengthy speech, but thought better of it. “Everyone who goes to Hogwarts thinks exactly the same thing.”

Teddy laughed. “Good try, but I doubt it. Look at James—he’s _never_ going to doubt whether he is magical enough to go to Hogwarts.” At that moment, James was frowning at a collection of pine needles, which were zooming around at ground level, beating an acorn back and forth between them.

Harry gave him a quick hug. “Okay, maybe not everyone, but nearly everyone.”

It was still not quite the truth, Teddy knew, but it made him feel better. He hugged his godfather back.

“You lot are being boring,” James announced. Some of the pine needles had evidently won the miniature Quidditch game, and he was now staring at them.

“Teddy!”

It was usually like this at family gatherings, someone always shouting his name. The Weasleys had arrived, Ron waving to him, Rose wobbling towards him and then at the last minute deciding she wanted to say hi to James first. Hermione carried their son, Hugo, on her hip; he was only a year and a half, now, and was sucking on his thumb as he stared out across the garden.

Harry brushed past Hermione on the way back into the house, and Hermione looked slightly hurt. “Told you so,” Ron said to her in an undertone. “He’s furious, but—probably okay if you just don’t talk about it.”

Sometimes Teddy thought adults did that on purpose, raised subjects and then mentioned how they’d better not talk about them. It was infuriating, if you asked him; why talk about it all, if you weren’t going to say more?

They had just settled down in the living room, Teddy squeezed between Gran on his right and James on his left, a cookie in each hand—Gran snatched one away—when the Other Weasleys arrived. Victoire fell out onto the floor first, then blushed bright red when she realized that everyone was staring at her. She was two years younger than Teddy, and mentioned constantly how she wasn’t sure if she would go to Beauxbatons or Hogwarts when she went to school; Teddy thought it was just a way of reminding everyone that she would be going to school soon, too, and that Teddy wasn’t the only one.

Dominique, two years younger than Victoire, appeared next, coughing in the soot. She and James were the same age, but they didn’t get along very well; Dominique went to stand by her sister, and didn’t even glance at her cousin.

Louis, the youngest, was Rose’s age, almost four; and he couldn’t yet be trusted to Floo himself properly—he had trouble with the _r_ sound, and might have ended up somewhere horrendous if Fleur let him come on his own. Fleur whirled into sight moments later, holding Louis; she stepped gracefully onto the carpet, and must have put a Soot Repelling Spell on herself and Louis before leaving, because she had managed to stay completely clean during the trip. Bill followed a minute later, carrying several large boxes of gifts; he grinned at Teddy and James but handed the boxes to Harry.

“Vicky made the top one,” he whispered to Harry, winking at Teddy as he did so. “So make sure you exclaim properly over it, or she’ll sulk for a week.”

Ginny found a chair for Fleur, and set it up next to the end of the couch. Harry stood to make room for Bill, which promptly caused an argument when Hermione insisted that, as it was his birthday, he should have a seat; and would Ron please get up, it was _his_ older brother.

Ron muttered at that, but he did get up, and Bill took his seat, looking apologetic. Victoire clambered onto his lap. “Open your presents!” she commanded.

Harry now had a stack of gifts on his lap; Teddy couldn’t even see his godfather’s head over the top of them. “Let’s see …” He picked up Victoire’s present and set it aside. “I think I’ll leave that one for later …”

“No, no, open it now!”

“Well, if you insist—” He handed the stack of presents off to Ginny on his left. The wrapping paper was a hideous bright pink, with flashing pink stars; Teddy was certain of who had picked that one out. Harry held up an equally bright pink, equally flashing scarf; it appeared to have silver strands that sparked every so often in it.

“Oh, lovely …” Harry wrapped it around his neck.

“No, you’re supposed to do it like this!”

Victoire spent several minutes fiddling with the scarf; it was all Teddy could do to keep from laughing, and he carefully avoided looking at Ron, Ginny, Hermione, or Bill, all of whom were no doubt about to explode. He ended up looking at his shoe.

Harry went through the next three presents—a new set of wizard’s chess from Ron, a book called the _History and Theory of Animal Transformations_ , by Emeric Switch, and a set of crystal goblets from Bill and Fleur—when the fireplace turned green again, and Charlie stepped out, followed by a man Teddy didn’t recognize. “Sorin,” Ron whispered; he had come to stand behind Teddy. “Thank god he got rid of Lynette, she was horrible, I don’t know how he could stand her …”

Teddy snickered. He had to agree, Lynette had been nearly unbearable—she would go on and on about dragons that she’d killed, while everyone else, Charlie included, attempted to stand up for the dragons. Sorin was tall, with dark hair and a large, shiny burn mark on his right cheek; like Charlie, he had pierced one of his ears, and had something tattooed on his right wrist that Teddy couldn’t read.

Ginny and Hermione got a bit flustered at the sight of more people, and Teddy definitely heard Ginny asked Harry as she passed how many more guests were coming. Teddy was rather glad of Charlie and Sorin's arrival, because it meant that, with eighteen people in the room, Harry called them all out to the garden.

Charlie, Sorin, Bill, and Hermione magicked the tables into order, while Ginny, Ron, and Fleur started transporting the food from the kitchen into the backyard. They had just managed to set everything up for lunch when there was a screech from within the house. “Arthur, you did _not_ bring an Eye Pod for Teddy to show you how to use, put that away—”

“Two more chairs,” Ginny said, sounding resigned, and magicked them into existence.

Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Weasley found their seats at the head of the table, and they were all set to eat, when James reminded them that Harry had not finished going through his presents. Teddy’s stomach was grumbling by the time Harry finished—he’d unpacked at least twelve boxes, put on six different pieces of clothing, and tossed four books into a pile in the corner of the garden—when they finally were allowed to start eating.

Teddy was seated between Victoire and Sorin, with Harry right across. Sorin spent most of lunch telling them stories about dragons that he had captured with Charlie; they’d been not only to Romania, but also to Russia, Estonia, Latvia, and Siberia, all in pursuit of dragons. “And this year, we’re off to Mongolia,” he said enthusiastically around a large piece of stake.

Harry asked him about Hungarian Horntails and Norwegian Ridgebacks, and explained how he’d encountered both types of dragons while at Hogwarts. Teddy loved listening to Harry’s stories from school; they were much more interesting than Bill’s, though George and Charlie usually had some good adventures—George’s usually ended up in detention, Charlie’s in nearly getting eaten, stabbed, or burned by whatever magical creature he was taking care of at the time.

“Is George coming?” he asked when there was a lull in the conversation on dragons.

Harry frowned. “He was supposed to be here already … probably got hung up at the shop, you know how it goes.” He suddenly grinned. “Speaking of which, Teddy, I hear you had your own adventure at the shop …”

Teddy told them about the Towler twins, and Leandra Stone, and the coral; and they all had a good laugh about it.

Teddy was sure he couldn’t eat another mouthful of food, but when Mrs. Weasley brought out a cake, he found himself suddenly hungry again. Last year, she’d made a cake in the shape of a stag; the year before that, it had been a dragon. This cake was relatively boring, though, just three layers with white frosting.

James let out a noise. “Why isn’t it a dragon?” he shouted up the table.

Mrs. Weasley glared. “Well, I was _going_ to make it in the shape of the Sword of Gryffindor—”

Teddy saw Harry go still still, and all the adults turned to look at him. He ignored them as best he could, but it was difficult with ten people staring.

“—but Ron informed me that under no circumstances could I bring you all a cake in the shape of the Sword of Gryffindor, so this is all I could whip up at the last minute.”

Ron turned beet red when Teddy looked at him, and muttered something under his breath about how “she wasn’t supposed to tell everyone that.”

“What’s wrong with the Sword of Gryffindor?” Teddy asked his godfather.

He briefly thought Harry might actually get angry at him, something Harry had never done before; his jaw was clenched and he was staring straight ahead. But then Harry took a deep breath and smiled at Teddy. “Oh, it’s no big deal,” he said, but Teddy was sure he was lying. “It’s just—well, Hermione and I are having a bit of a dispute about who owns the Sword, is all, and we’ve got court about it next week.”

Teddy decided it would be best not to ask any more, as Harry looked especially strained when he said Hermione’s name.

The iciness lasted a few minutes, as Mrs. Weasley magicked the cake to fly along the table and cut pieces itself; when James took a bite and proclaimed it at least as delicious as last year, everyone started talking again, the moment was forgotten.

They had just started in on the cake when George appeared, with a tall woman in tow; everyone greeted her as Angelina, and Harry in particular seemed to know her well. George winked at Teddy as Mr. Weasley magicked a few more chairs, and they started to talk Quidditch; apparently, Angelina had played with Harry at school, and even been Quidditch Captain.

Teddy had just finished dessert when there was a screech from above, and a large brown owl plummeted onto the table with a crash, landing in what was left of the cake. It perked up immediately and hooted, looking around the table inquisitively until it spied Teddy. It stuck its leg out for Teddy to take the roll of parchment attached.

When he saw the Hogwarts seal, he let out a tiny sigh of relief. Harry caught his eye and smiled encouragingly, as though to say, _See?_.

“Ooh, your school list!” Hermione said from down the table. “We’ve been wondering who your professors will be!”

“And by _we_ ,” Ron said, “she means _she’s_ been wondering.” He looked over at Harry, Ginny, and George, though.

“Well, Neville, obviously,” Ginny mentioned, “and Binns. He’s already dead, he’s not going to go away.”

“And Flitwick and Sinistra are still there, as far as I know,” George put in. “Flitwick was one of our best teachers, he just never knew it. But all the spells we learned that we actually used—well, most of them, anyway—were in Charms.”

Hermione came to stand behind Teddy. “I heard a rumor that Emmeric Switch’s _daughter_ might be teaching Transfiguration?”

Mrs. Weasley gasped. Over at the far end of the table, Fleur was having some trouble keeping Louis quiet; Dominique kept poking her brother, and Rose kept prodding Dominique, and Victoire was attempting to tell the whole lot to be quiet. She wanted to know what books she would have to buy. Hugo, who Hermione had passed to Ginny who had given him off to Lily so that they could all crowd over Teddy’s shoulder, seemed to think that Louis was crying for a reason that affected the both of them, and he started to wail too.

Harry coughed, and everyone was quiet, though Louis and Hugo continued their crying war. “Perhaps Teddy would like to read us the list of books?”

Teddy squirmed. No, he didn’t really want to read the list, not in front of everyone; but he supposed he had to, what with everyone staring at him already. There wasn’t a Hogwarts letter accepting him again, but there was a list of school books and things he needed for his uniform. Teddy read from the very beginning, hoping the adults wouldn’t make him finish:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Uniform  
 _First-year students will require:  
Three sets of plain work robes (black)  
One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

 _Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags_

Set Books  
 _All students should have a copy of each of the following:_  
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) _by Miranda Goshawk_  
A History of Magic _by Bathilda Bagshot_  
Magical Theory _by Adalbert Waffling_  
Elementary Transfiguration _by Morpheus Blink_  
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _by Phyllida Spore_  
The Intuitive Potioneer _by Gage N. Poore_  
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _by Newt Scamander_  
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection _by Quentin Trimble_

Other equipment  
 _1 wand  
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
1 set glass or crystal phials  
1 telescope  
1 set brass scales_

 _Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_

 _PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

“Blimey,” Ron said. “That sounds pretty similar to what we got.”

“It’s _exactly_ what we got,” Hermione corrected, “except that some of the books are different.” She snatched the paper from Teddy’s hand; he was only too glad to let her, since she was practically breathing down his neck. “Well, Neville’s keeping _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ , of course, it’s the best … And Binns couldn’t be persuaded to change his mind about Bathilda Bagshot’s book, he’s probably been using it since he died … A little creepy, though, given—” She stopped, looked at Harry and Ron, and coughed. “Never could figure out why they assigned _Fantastic Beasts_ in the first year, it’s not like we ever used it … _Magical Theory_ , _Standard Book of Spells_ ...”

“Er,” Harry said, and Hermione looked up.

“Oh, sorry …”

She passed the paper back to Teddy. “Well, go on, then. What are the others?”

Teddy couldn’t quite remember which ones she’d mentioned so far, so he read through the list again. Apparently the Potions book was different from their first year, as was the Transfiguration book; but Defense Against the Dark Arts was the same. “Not like the teacher’s the same, though,” Ron snickered, and he, Harry, and Hermione shared another look.

Teddy was just about to put the scroll away when he noticed another piece of paper that had fallen to the ground in the scramble to look at his book list. He picked it up and turned it over.

 _Dear Mr. Lupin,_

 _We would like to advise you that this year there will in attendance at Hogwarts a student with lycanthropy. We have taken every precaution to ensure students’ safety, and do not believe this will ever present a problem. If it does, we will remove the student with lycanthropy from the premises immediately._

 _This is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Thirty-Eight, Section 4a.2.8 (2008)._

 _Sincerely,  
Headmistress Pomona Sprout_

“What’s that you’ve got there, then?” Ginny asked.

Teddy gulped. He didn’t really know what to say, so he read aloud the entire note, though he skipped the numbers near the end.

No one said a word. The silence stretched on, until the adults off at the other end of the table even stopped talking, and looked over.

“Is anything amiss, dears?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

“What’s lycanthropy?” Teddy asked, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer. He just wanted to be absolutely sure.

“A werewolf,” Mrs. Weasley answered. “Is there going to be one, at Hogwarts?”

Teddy looked at Gran, right next to Mrs. Weasley. She had spent most of the dinner deep in conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Charlie, Sorin, and Bill; but now she gave Teddy a faint, half-smile. She had told Teddy, long ago, about his father being a werewolf, and how it had caused some problems between him and Teddy’s mum; and how werewolves had never been treated all that well among wizard-kind. About how most parents didn't want their kids to go to school with a werewolf, even though it was perfectly safe as long as the student with lycanthropy had ready access to Wolfsbane Potion, which made the transformations essentially harmless.

He supposed it was good that Professor Sprout had informed everyone about the werewolf; it didn't seem all that big a deal to him, though. Gran had also told him how his father had been a teacher at Hogwarts one year, but that he had had to leave when he had accidentally forgotten to take Wolfsbane Potion and transformed on the grounds. Better safe than sorry, Teddy told himself.

Another werewolf, at Hogwarts. His father had been the last; Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster then, had been kind enough to let him in when few or no other headmaster would have done so. Well, Teddy supposed, at least that spoke well of this Pomona Sprout; neither Gran nor Harry spoke often of Professor Sprout, though he got the impression that she had saved Hermione’s life at some point during their schooling.

It was still strange to think he would be going to school with a werewolf, someone with the same challenges as his father had had. It wasn't bad—just strange. Maybe this student would do what his father had done every full moon, go under the Whomping Willow to wait it out in the Shrieking Shack; or maybe Wolfsbane Potion would make that unnecessary. Teddy had no idea. "It'll be an interesting year," he said, because all the adults seemed to expect something.


	4. The Sword and the Snitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teddy spends yet another day at the Ministry of Magic, but this time he sees the Sword of Gryffindor and spends some time with Hermione. He attends one of Ginny's Quidditch matches, and discovers that McGonagall is a Quidditch fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to canon, Ginny probably shouldn't still be playing Quidditch (at least according to the Harry Potter Wiki, she plays for the Harpies until having children and retiring). However, I personally see no real reason why she would have quit forever after having children, and imagine her returning to the pitch after Lily is born (and perhaps in between James and Al).
> 
> Wikipedia informs me that the UK word for "cotton candy" is "candyfloss." I hope that's true; if it's not, please let me know! (And the same goes for all other attempts at British English—I'm American, so I'm probably doing it all wrong.)

Chapter 4 — The Sword and the Snitch

It only took a short while for Teddy to overcome his surprise, though perhaps Ginny’s offer of tickets to a Holyhead Harpies match later that week helped a bit. It wasn’t bad, not at all, Teddy thought later that night as he lay in bed, staring up at the posters of Chudley Cannon Quidditch players bashing each others’ heads with their brooms. He could hear them arguing in the night over yet another lost Snitch; it was the same argument they had every night.

Harry had told him all about his father, and how Remus Lupin had been friends with Harry’s father, James, and Harry’s godfather, Sirius. How Remus’s friends had learned to become Animagi so they could accompany Remus during his transformations. How they had learned more about the Hogwarts castle than practically anyone else …

Would there be anyone at Hogwarts this year who would do that? Who would learn to become an Animagus, for the sake of a few weekend adventures? Teddy would have liked to think that he would, but he had to admit that running around with a werewolf didn’t sound like the most appealing of options; he didn’t fancy getting bitten, whether by a werewolf or anything else.

But Wolfsbane Potion would make all of that moot. No one would even _need_ to become an illegal Animagus in order to accompany a werewolf friend, because whoever the student was would probably be curled up in an office somewhere, harmless, sleeping the night away.

At any rate, he had nearly forgotten about it entirely by the time his grandmother woke him the next morning. “We can’t be late!” she said, pounding on his door for emphasis. “Wizengamot this morning!”

Teddy reluctantly dragged himself out of bed. The summers were fun, certainly, but he would enjoy being able to sleep to his own schedule, when he finally got to Hogwarts. Gran’s Wizengamot schedule could be erratic, and there were weeks where Teddy spent all day at the Ministry, and other weeks where he and Gran spent all day playing Gobstones or wizard’s chess or Exploding Snap.

This week was clearly going to be one of those where he spent all day at the Ministry.

Teddy arrived, bleary-eyed, in the kitchen, and Gran handed him a plate full of eggs and a scone. Hermione was there, too, talking rapid-fire about something to do with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. “Good morning, Hermione,” Teddy said, though it came out more like “gmning Hmnee,” as he had just taken a large bite of scone.

“Chew your food,” Gran said, but she was smiling.

“Anyway,” Hermione said, standing up, “I’ve got a spot of paperwork to do before I take Teddy, so I’ll meet you at the Ministry, shall I?”

Gran nodded; Teddy groaned, though he tried not to groan too loudly. Hermione was _not_ his favorite babysitter; she had a tendency to lecture him on the importance of being prepared for school, and on learning everything he could, and would ask question after question about his Muggle school. Teddy had only been going there for a few years, now; Gran, and Hermione, had insisted that it would be good for him.

He could do fractions, now. As far as Teddy could tell, that was the only useful thing he’d learned, and he wasn’t even sure it was useful.

Gran looked like she was about to start asking him questions, so Teddy quickly said, “What’s the case about today?”

She sighed and fiddled with the tablecloth. “Goblins. Sword of Gryffindor. Remember, Molly was saying yesterday?” Teddy nodded. “Harry’s going to be presenting his side, but Hermione can’t defend the goblins because of her position as a Magical Law Enforcer; Harry’s an Auror, so he doesn’t have to recuse himself.”

Teddy wasn’t sure what “recuse” meant, but it sounded important.

Gran smiled and pushed her now-gray hair out of her eyes. “It’s going to take forever, the goblins are never going to give up; and Harry is about as stubborn a person as I know, if he doesn’t see reason soon enough, the case’ll still be going this time next year.”

Great, Teddy thought. More chances for Gran to get Hermione to babysit him, instead of Harry or Ron or George.

“When can we go to Diagon Alley?” he asked.

Gran laughed. “You’ll be lucky if you _ever_ get to go back!” she said, laughing at the look of horror on Teddy’s face. “No, we have to get your books and robes and Potions supplies. But I’ve got court all this week, you’ll have to go over to dinner at the Potters’; and then you’ve got the Quidditch game on Thursday, so it’ll have to be next week at the earliest.”

“Saturday?”

Gran rolled her eyes. “Diagon Alley will be mayhem on Saturday.”

They finally settled on getting Teddy’s things a week before school started. Teddy wanted to get his wand as early as possible, but Gran insisted that he’d probably blow up the house if she left him alone for a minute or two. Teddy privately thought she was underestimating his magical abilities—He’d never blown anything up in his life! Not even by accident!—but he finally managed to convince her that everyone else in his year was going to get their wands as early as possible, so their parents could show them how to use it before getting to school. She was just putting him at a disadvantage by not letting him practice a _little_ before school.

She laughed at that, informed him that he was far too eager to start causing trouble with a wand, but agreed to show him some simple spells.

They Flooed off to the Ministry, where Hermione met them in the Atrium and escorted them down to Level 9, where the Wizengamot met. Teddy wasn’t allowed in Hermione’s office, because the security restrictions were too high; so they found a bench outside the Wizengamot where they could wait.

“Let’s go off to Diagon Alley,” Teddy suggested the moment Gran had disappeared through the double doors into the courtroom.

Hermione shook her head. “I am under strict orders from Andromeda not to let you wander off.”

“It wouldn’t be wandering off if you took me.”

“Read this.”

She handed him a book and opened a magazine. Teddy groaned. _Hogwarts, A History_. Harry had warned him about this; Hermione would try to foist a copy on him as soon as he was accepted to Hogwarts.

Well, at least Gran would have a break mid-morning, when he could beg to go off to Ron’s or George’s. He could even promise to help George in the back of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, and not to do anything foolish.

Teddy opened the book and pretended to read. Hermione flipped a page of her magazine. Teddy flipped a page, though he had no idea what the first one had said. He looked at some of the pictures. There was a chapter on the Hogwarts founders, where Teddy stared for a while at the pictures of Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff, and Rowena Ravenclaw. Slytherin looked a bit sneaky, he decided; and Godric Gryffindor seemed ready to run him through with a sword. Hufflepuff looked kind and welcoming, and Ravenclaw seemed to think he was dirt.

“Am not dirt,” he told the pictures. Ravenclaw turned the other direction and stared off into space, and Slytherin cackled a little.

“She really doesn’t think so,” Hufflepuff said warmly. “She just takes a bit of getting used to, is all.”

There was a commotion at the end of the hallway. “— _believe_ they insist on this,” someone was saying angrily. “It’s absurd!”

“It’s their right,” another voice said, calmly.

Teddy recognized the second voice. Harry was striding down the hallway next to an anxious looking wizard with a green bowler hat that he was spinning in his hands. “Well, I say do away with their rights, and—” He stopped. “Mrs. Weasley,” he said stiffly, staring at Hermione.

Hermione stood, throwing the magazine down on the bench behind her. “ _What_ rights do you plan to do away with, Fudge?” she asked, her voice dripping acid.

Fudge? Teddy stared. “Cornelius Fudge, former Minister for Magic?” he blurted out.

All three of them turned to look at him. Teddy blushed scarlet, but hid it with a quick Metamorph that turned his cheeks pale once more.

“Well, yes, dear boy, I was indeed Minister for Magic.” Fudge puffed his chest out as he said this, looking briefly proud.

“Until you got yourself sacked,” Harry reminded him, “because you refused—”

“Yes, yes, about that. Well. Let’s leave the past where it is, in the past, yes?” He began spinning his bowler hat again, and looked down the hallway from which he and Harry had come. “They should be here by now.”

Harry looked back up the hallway, unperturbed. “I’m sure they’ll be along shortly. Shall we?”

“What’s Fudge doing here?” Teddy asked Hermione when they had gone into the Wizengamot.

Hermione was still staring at the door, looking angry. “He’s—he’s scribe for the court, now,” she said distractedly. She sat back down. “Desperate to maintain any connection he can, I suppose.”

She opened up her magazine again, but it was upside down and she didn’t notice.

After a minute, Teddy decided he wouldn’t be interrupting her if she was pretending to read anyway. “Who’s coming? What are they insisting on?”

Hermione had just closed her magazine and opened her mouth to answer when the thud of footsteps at the far end of the hall made her turn around to look. Teddy peered over her shoulder.

A large group of goblins had appeared, marching in two lines, staring straight ahead. They had pointy ears, pale skin, and extremely long fingers. They were shorter than Teddy had expected; he’d seen plenty of pictures, but the last time he’d seen one in Gringotts had been several years before, and he had been several feet shorter himself.

They wore a uniform, as well—black shirts and pants with a picture of a bat holding a rock between its feet, as though it were about to fly out of the goblins’ shirts and drop the rock on Teddy’s head. Their black shoes were all perfectly polished, and clicked ominously on the floor. The six of them marched forward, without even looking to the side.

Behind them, Teddy could see four humans, carrying a large box between them. It was a glass case, engraved with the seal of the Ministry of Magic on the side; but behind the seal, Teddy could see a sword, nearly four feet tall, with rubies on the hilt. It hovered in the middle of the case, which the four humans held with extreme care, two on either side.

Behind the humans, another six goblins marched, but these goblins kept their eyes on the sword, and when one of the humans reached up to scratch her nose, one of the goblins reached reflexively for a dagger at his hip.

Teddy gulped. These goblins meant serious business, he thought.

He stood up as they passed, to get a better look at the sword. It looked familiar, somehow; something about it … “I’ve been dreaming about that sword!”

He didn’t realize he’d said it aloud until the entire caravan stopped. Hermione frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

Teddy shrugged. He approached the sword, but two goblins were suddenly in front of him. “Do not proceed, sir,” one of them said.

Teddy took a step back. “Er, okay,” he said. He looked at the sword over the tops of the goblins’ heads. It was definitely the sword he had been dreaming about, that he had handed over to the dragon—but that didn’t make any sense. It didn’t even _look_ like the sword Teddy thought he remembered from the dream, but he was suddenly certain that it was the same sword, nonetheless.

Which didn’t explain how it had ended up in his dreams, he realized; but he _knew_ it was the same.

One of the goblins gestured, and the caravan started up again, proceeding into the Wizengamot. Teddy watched them go, frowning, as he tried to remember what exactly his dream had been about. There had been a sword— _the_ sword, he reminded himself—and a dragon, and that was about it.

“It was just a dream,” Hermione said reassuringly, though she still looked a tiny bit curious.

Teddy shrugged. It probably had just been a dream; it was definitely fuzzy enough, now, for him to be more than willing to believe that any actual, real life sword he saw he would think he had recognized from the dream. It would probably happen if he ever saw a dragon, too, he thought to himself with a little snort. Maybe he could ask Charlie to take him on a quick trip to Romania, to show him any dragons, to test this particular theory …

Hermione handed him _Hogwarts, A History_ back, and Teddy opened it, but he didn’t even try to pretend to be reading it. She stood up to get some water a moment later, and Teddy switched the book with _Quidditch Through the Ages_ , which he had brought for just this purpose; but he couldn’t focus on that, either.

The Sword of Gryffindor. He could hardly believe he’d even seen it—Harry had talked about it a number of times, and Teddy was given to understand that it had been instrumental in the downfall of Lord Voldemort eleven years prior. Hermione and Ron also seemed to hold a certain reverence for the Sword, such that whenever it came up as a topic of conversation—which was rather a lot, Teddy thought suddenly; the founders of Hogwarts seemed to be quite the subject among the Potters and the Weasleys—there was a certain reverant silence that fell upon the table, broken only by Hugo, or Lily, or sometimes Rose.

And he’d _seen_ it. He could hardly believe it. He wanted desperately to ask Hermione about the Sword, but she had gone back to reading her magazine; or at least, if she was pretending, she was doing a much better job of it this time.

***  
The rest of the week passed in a bit of a blur for Teddy. He spent much of each day at the Ministry, though in Arthur’s office this time. Arthur had enchanted the Floo powder so that Teddy couldn’t get a hold of it, and informed Teddy that he’d purposefully let him run off to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, which he’d thought would be a bit more fun than spending the day in the office. Teddy wasn’t sure he believed Arthur, but he didn’t try to run off again.

In the evenings, Teddy was off to the Potters’ for dinner, as Gran’s Wizengamot proceedings often went extremely late, if they didn’t end extremely early. Harry wasn’t there the first night, as he was still arguing with the goblins over the Sword; but the rest of the week, they played Quidditch outside before dinner, and wizard’s chess when Ron was over. They briefly discussed the Incident With the Sword, as Teddy was now calling it, but Harry didn’t seem to think much of it.

“You’ll get to stay here tomorrow,” Harry said over treacle tart on Thursday. “For some of the day, anyway; Ginny’s got half practice tomorrow.”

Ginny usually spent most of the day practicing with the Holyhead Harpies, but right before a match, they usually had half practice.

Teddy grinned. “Do you think she’ll let me try her broom?”

Ginny had an official Holyhead Harpies broom, which meant that she always had the latest models, sometimes even before they came out on the regular market. Harry shook his head, but he smiled. “That might be considered tampering.”

“But I haven’t even got my wand yet!”

Ron and Harry spent the rest of the meal discussing the likelihoods for the upcoming match. The Holyhead Harpies would be playing the Montrose Magpies, which were very good; but the Holyhead Harpies had seen a bit of a renaissance in the last ten years, and had won roughly half of their matches against the Magpies in the last three.

Thursday morning dawned bright and cold and foggy. Teddy went with Gran to the Ministry during the morning, but left with Ginny just before lunch. Ginny gave him a Galleon to watch James, Al, and Lily while she took a shower and prepared lunch. Teddy helped them set up a fort in the backyard of the Potters’ house, and convinced a fair number of garden gnomes to attack.

James thought it was great fun, and announced that he couldn’t wait until he got to go to Hogwarts and make forts with Teddy all day long. Teddy failed to mention how he probably wouldn’t have the time to play with James all day long.

The match was a night match, so after Harry came back in the late afternoon, Ginny left to go prepare for the match. James found them all Holyhead Harpies shirts, and Lily decided that when she grew up she wanted to play Quidditch for the Holyhead Harpies. Since she didn’t even know how to fly, yet, and was a bit unsure as to the difference between Quaffles and Bludgers, Teddy couldn’t help snickering a bit.

They set off just before six o’clock, and Harry told them they’d buy dinner at the match. They took a Portkey, and as Teddy put his hand on the empty pillowcase, he reminded himself why he preferred Floo. The Portkey yanked his navel, and then they were spinning, and James and Al and Lily were all yelling. They finally let go and fell to the ground; Teddy made a slightly more graceful landing than usual, but he still bruised his leg when he collided with Harry.

“Everyone’s in one piece?” Harry asked, looking around at his kids and Teddy.

The Potters all chorused “yes,” while Teddy simply nodded, rubbing his leg to take the sting out as he looked around.

They appeared to be in some sort of swamp. Mosquitoes buzzed around their heads, and Teddy discovered his feet seemed to be sinking into the peat. Bedraggled trees leaned over them, and more than a few other Quidditch-goers were looking around in dismay.

“Where _are_ we?” James asked petulantly. He swatted a mosquito, which burst on his hand. “Yuck!” He wiped it off on Harry’s shirt.

“I think we’re somewhere in the Fens,” Harry said, shrugging. “Come on, this way!”

Planks had been laid down on the soggy ground. They quickly found the nearest one, and followed it towards the edge of the little wooded area where the Portkey had taken them. Beyond the trees was a small brook, and then a vast marshland that extended nearly as far as Teddy could see. Thick, tall marshgrass swayed in the light breeze, and off to the west, the sun was setting in a brilliant display of crimson.

Off to the left, a gigantic Quidditch pitch had been set up; to the right was the fairgrounds, with the hawkers and tents for the spectators who were going to stay the night. Harry and Ginny had arranged a Portkey back at the end of the match, so they hadn’t brought a tent; Teddy wistfully wished they could stay the night at least once, because they always left directly after the match.

“Look!” James shouted, pointing, and then he was off, showing Teddy and Harry the Omnioculars, the Snitchfinders, the models of the players. “Mum!” he said, picking up a miniature version of his mother, zooming along on her broom. It hovered over his hand as tiny Ginny pumped her fist in the air and yelled soundlessly. “Please please please can we get one?”

“You’ve got fifty of those at home,” Harry informed him. “But look, over there—”

James darted off to where Harry was pointing to a pretzel stand, and Teddy was soon munching on one of a piping hot pretzel. Shortly after that, though, James found a Cursing Cotton Candy vendor, and was so annoying that Harry finally bought them all some.

“Bloody hell!” Teddy’s candy yelled when he bit down. “Bugger off, why don’t you?”

“Don’t tell your mother,” Harry said quickly, “or your Gran.”

Teddy grinned and took another bite of the cotton candy. “Git,” it complained, but it sounded a little more resigned to its fate. Gran would never, ever know about this.

They were allowed to skip the long line that had formed outside the pitch, as Ginny had gotten them priority tickets. They were ushered into a side door, and climbed the stairs up to the hundredth row of seating. They had their own box, right in the middle, and could see the whole pitch clearly. Across the way, Teddy could see the announcer getting settled in her own box, her bright golden robes flashing.

“Gwenog Jones,” Harry informed him, and Teddy stared.

“ _The_ Gwenog Jones?”

He remembered the first time Ginny had met her; she had been talking about it for weeks. Harry had said that Gwenog Jones had been Ginny’s hero growing up, and was probably the reason Ginny had signed with the Holyhead Harpies instead of Puddlemere United, where Oliver Wood  
played.

“—oh, I am quite capable of doing this myself, thank you very much young sir, but your help is not needed—”

Minerva McGonagall was at the end of the box, glaring at a young man who was trying to told the gate open.

“Professor McGonagall!” Hary exclaimed when he saw her. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

She beamed slightly. “Montrose Magpies, Harry, how could I miss it? And Ginny offered me tickets in your box, I could not refuse.”

Teddy noticed she was decked head to foot in black and white, and had a magpie amulet pinned to her robes that looked at him with a beady eye, and squawked every so often.

James frowned at her. “You support the Montrose Magpies?” he asked in an accusing tone of voice. He had stood up, and put his hands on his hips. “You can’t be in our box. This is a Harpies-only box.”

Minerva laughed. “I’m sure it is, young man, but your father doesn’t mind.”

James faltered and looked over at Harry, confused. Harry laughed and towseled his son’s hair. “Not everything is about the Harpies, James,” he said. “Come here. Professor McGonagall was my teacher at Hogwarts. She taught Transfiguration, but she’s retired now, and works with Teddy’s grandmother at the Wizengamot.”

James let out a breath. “Well, I suppose that’s okay, then. You can’t be all bad.”

There was a slight lull, so Teddy took his chance. “Professor McGonagall, ma’am,” he said; Harry had called her that, so he figured he should, too.

“Please do not call me ‘ma’am’,” she interrupted. “But go on.”

Teddy turned red. “Well—it’s just that, Professor—” He wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to ask. “I was outside the Wizengamot,” he said in a rush, “and I saw the Sword of Gryffindor. And I thought I recognized it.”

Minerva—Professor McGonagall, Teddy decided he would call her—pursed her lips. “From where?”

He had been hoping she wouldn’t ask. “A dream,” he said, Metamorphing to cover up another blush.

She stilled for a second, then shrugged. “Very mysterious, Mr. Lupin, but I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.”

“I’m not worrying!”

She raised one eyebrow. “Well, you certainly seem to be thinking about it quite a bit,” she said, “as your grandmother mentioned this a few days ago.”

He had forgotten that they were both on the Wizengamot together. “Well—it was just a bit odd,” he finished lamely, and resolved not to mention it again.

Luckily, Gwenog Jones chose that moment to magnify her voice, and the lights around the pitch went out in a wave. “Welcome,” Jones’s voice boomed into the pitch, “to the third match of the season between the Holyhead Harpies and the Montrose Magpies!”

Professor McGonagall clapped enthusiastically at the mention of the Magpies.

“And for the Magpies, we have tonight Campbell—“

A wizard dressed in black and white robes emerged from the Magpies’ side and lapped the pitch. Teddy found his set of Omnioculars and zoomed in; Campbell was a Chaser, and was completely bald, though he had painted his scalp in black and white patchwork.

“Campbell—“

The second Campbell appeared to have forgotten his goggles, because he was still putting them on when he appeared at the far end of the pitch.

“Brewer—“

“Coyne—“

“Coote—“

“Walmsley—“

“Wilkins—“

The players appeared one by one, lapping the pitch as a team one last time before hovering near the center while Gwenog Jones called out the Harpies’ side.

Glover, the Captain and one of the Beaters, appeared first, followed by Gray, the second Beater, and Griffin, the Keeper. Then, “Potter,” and Ginny swooped out into the pitch, to much cheering and shouts of “Mum! Mum! Mum! Mum!” by James and Lily, and Teddy thought he even heard Al yell something inarticulate.

Teddy caught Professor McGonagall applauding a bit.

The other two Chasers, “Morgan!” and “Pryce!” lapped the pitch, and then “Priddy!”, the Seeker.

Gwenog Jones yelled for the match to begin, and the referee in charge flew to the center of the pitch, blew his silver whistle, and tossed the Quaffle into the air.

There appeared to be a mass collision of people, as the six Chasers jostled each other for the Quaffle, the Keepers dashed off to the goal posts, and the Beaters circled high into the air to find the Bludgers. The two Seekers, Priddy and Walmsley, rose so high that Teddy almost couldn’t see them with his Omnioculars, and started to circle the pitch, looking for the Snitch.

“And Morgan gets the Quaffle, throwing it to Potter, then back to Morgan, then—Oh, and one of the Campbell cousins has stolen the Quaffle back, can’t ever remember which one is which—” Gwenog Jones chortled into her wand.

“It’s ANGUS!” Professor McGonagall yelled. “Angus Campbell!”

Gwenog Jones couldn’t hear her, but there was a good deal of booing from the Magpies fans.

Teddy followed the Chasers as Ginny stole the Quaffle back from Wilkins, who had caught it after Campbell dropped it. She swerved around the other Campbell and chucked the Quaffle at the left goal post.

Richie Coote caught it and tossed it back to Wilkins, who raced off towards the other end of the pitch. There was a collective sigh from the Harpies fans, and James yelled wordlessly at Coote.

“He was on the Gryffindor team,” McGonagall said proudly, over the applause from the Magpies fans.

Harry snorted. “Yeah, and he got off it right quick. I was Captain at the time,” he explained to Teddy, “and Coote was one of the only Beaters who showed up to the trials who actually could hit a Bludger more than half the time.”

“He’s certainly come into his own as a Keeper!” McGonagall replied sternly.

One of the Beaters for the Harpies’ side whacked a Bludger with a _crack!_. Teddy focused the Omnioculars on the Beater, and read GLOVER on the back of her shirt. Professor McGonagall pointed.

“Mared was excellent at Transfiguration,” she mused as they watched the Beater, Mared Glover, duck beneath the Magpies’ Brewer and send a Bludger careening towards Coote near the goal posts, just in time for Ginny to pass Valmai Morgan the Quaffle for a goal. “She almost turned Winnifred Griffin into a tortoise one time in class, it took a good bit of work to set her straight.”

“Did they play Quidditch at Hogwarts?” Teddy asked as he turned to look at Griffin. She had just taken the Quaffle from one of the Campbells and thrown it past a bewildered Coote.

“In Ravenclaw,” McGonagall responded. “The only players here who didn’t play on their House teams are Morgan and Pryce, who were taught by their parents, though Priddy left early because she had to repeat fifth year three times, she spent so much time on the pitch and so little time class.”

The Magpies scored three times, and then the Harpies scored six times in a row; Ginny managed to get the Quaffle past Coote four times, such that James and Lily were starting to sound hoarse from cheering.

There was a great gasp from the crowd, and Teddy at first couldn’t figure out why; but then he saw the Seekers diving through the center of the pitch. He couldn’t see the Snitch with his Omnioculars, though, and apparently neither Priddy nor Walmsley found it either, because they came out of the dive, toes brushing the grass, and started yelling at each other.

“Shut up!” Ginny yelled, flying between them and glaring at Tegwen Priddy. Or at least, that was Teddy’s best guess as to what she was saying; he couldn’t hear over the noise from the crowd.

The Seekers resumed their places high in the sky, but Harry was shaking his head. “Losing their heads,” he muttered to himself.

McGonagall cheered several more times for the Magpies’ Chasers, but it seemed to be a losing battle. Coote, though he might have been better at Keeping than Beating, was no match for Ginny, Morgan, and Griffin, and the Harpies’ Keeper caught nearly all of the Quaffles that the Magpies’ threw at her.

The Seekers, however, did not seem interested in finding the Snitch; they had started yelling at each other, and making rude hand gestures that Teddy could see through the Omnioculars. At one point, Priddy charged Walmsley, and the referee called a foul. The whole the pitch erupted in noise.

The match went on, and the Magpies seemed to realize that their only hope of catching up was to get the Snitch before the Harpies; but Priddy seemed to be doing her very best to prevent Walmsley from flying anywhere, much less towards the Snitch. She kept blocking his every move, until he eventually just flew right through her.

The referee called another foul. The Harpies watched sullenly as Wilkins took it, and managed to get it past Gladys Pryce with a well-timed feint. She looked a little surprised when she realized she’d misjudged him, and set her jaw. Teddy had the feeling that there wouldn’t be any more Quaffles that got by her.

And then, Priddy was jeering at Walmsley when the Snitch appeared near her left ear. Ginny saw it, and bellowed in Priddy’s direction, but the Seeker continued to harangue Walmsley. He didn’t seem to be looking at her, which is why he didn’t notice that it was within his grasp; but Ginny decided it had gone on long enough, and barreled toward Priddy, who scattered.

“What are you doing that for?” she yelled back at Ginny, looking angry.

But Ginny pointed toward Priddy's left knee. The Seeker looked, and even through the Omnioculars, Teddy could see her face turn bright red as she reached out and practically plucked the Snitch from the air.


	5. The Willow Wands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teddy and Gran go to Diagon Alley, where they meet up with Harry. They see several classmates of Teddy's, and Teddy has his first introduction to Rita Skeeter. They buy Teddy's wand, which Mr. Ollivander finds curious—but this surprises no one.

The two weeks until Gran finally agreed to go to Diagon Alley seemed to last forever. The Quidditch match over, Teddy suddenly found himself with very little to do. He didn’t have to read anything for the Muggle school he had gone to, because he wasn’t going back; and he didn’t yet have any Hogwarts books that he could at least make efforts toward reading. Hermione had informed him at one point that many Hogwarts students read all their textbooks ahead of time, but Teddy wasn’t sure whether he believed her.

He did not want to be behind when he showed up at Hogwarts, but it seemed that Hermione was the only one who ever raised that possibility; and Harry had told him countless stories about their time at Hogwarts, such that Teddy was fairly sure that he didn’t have to do a mote of work ahead of time in order to be prepared. It didn’t stop the little nugget of worry, though; what if all his classmates were super-prepared his year, and he was behind, because he couldn’t even manage to borrow Gran’s wand to practice?

Other young witches and wizards his age apparently did this quite frequently, or at least they had in Ron’s family. But Teddy had tried, once or twice, and Gran had always been there a second later. It meant that he had hardly ever cast any spells

At any rate, he desperately wanted August 25 to come, the day Gran had agreed to take him to Diagon Alley. She expressly forbid him to go ahead of time with either Harry or Ron, both of whom took turns babysitting on days when Gran had to go off to the Wizengamot.

But finally the day came. It was a Tuesday; Teddy had never been so glad that it was a Tuesday, except perhaps that it meant that _next_ Tuesday, he would be off on the train to Hogwarts.

For once, Gran didn’t have to wake him up. Teddy had one fist raised to rap on _her_ door, though, when he decided that it might not be the best idea to make Gran angry first thing in the morning.

Half the time, he wasn’t sure what exactly he had done to make Gran angry. He supposed it was just one of those adult things, and since she rarely stayed angry for long, Teddy didn’t mind _too_ much.

So he went back downstairs and attempted to read a book, but even _Quidditch Through the Ages_ , especially in the aftermath of the Holyhead Harpies match, couldn’t hold his attention for long. Instead, he went outside to practice some actual Quidditch, rather than reading about it in a book, but when he discovered that it was pouring rain, Quidditch seemed more effort than it was worth. So, Teddy returned to the kitchen with the intention of making Gran breakfast, thinking that it would not only help to put her in a good mood—she always liked getting breakfast in bed—but it would also speed up the leaving process.

Unfortunately, he was a little too enthusiastic with the frying pan, and the bacon and eggs burned to a crisp.

“Oops,” Teddy said aloud, covering his ears as the alarm spells went off.

“What is going on down there?” Gran shouted as she came down the stairs in her nightgown. She waved her wand and the spells silenced. Teddy rubbed his ears and looked down at the floor.

“I—I was trying to make breakfast,” he stammered.

Gran stared at him. And then she burst out laughing. “Come here, you,” she said, opening her arms and giving him a hug.

“Sorry,” he mumbled into her shoulder. “I just—wanted—”

“Every eleven-year old can’t wait to get their wand, their books, their robes,” she said gently. She put her hands on his shoulders and looked at him. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I myself woke my parents up at four in the morning the day we were going to get my things.”

“You did?”

He couldn’t imagine that had gone over well.

Gran grinned and looked away, as though remembering. “Yes. Everyone remembers when they go to get their first wand.”

“So you aren’t mad?”

She snorted slightly. “I’d be a little concerned if you _weren’t_ excited, frankly.”

“So let’s go!”

“Patience, patience. May I at least get dressed properly, first?”

Teddy rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

She made him sit down and each a real breakfast, as she refused to leave until they were both fed and watered. But they left a good half hour before Teddy had been expecting, so he wasn’t terribly disappointed. He had his list of books and supplies in his pocket the whole time, though, just in case she changed her mind.

They couldn’t Floo to the Leaky Cauldron’s public fireplace, but Neville and Hannah, who had just become landlady the year before, had arranged for them to Floo to a fireplace in the kitchens.

“Leaky Cauldron!” Teddy shouted, stepping into the fireplace.

He emerged into a sweltering kitchen, house elves darting about as they prepared lunch. A house elf rushed past, carrying a plate full of biscuits, and Teddy thought he could smell porridge.

Gran whirled into view behind him, and then stepped out of the fireplace, brushing soot off her handbag. Teddy thought he caught a very slight wrinkled nose as she surveyed the kitchen; it wasn’t dirty, but rather overcrowded—foodstuffs lined the walls on old, rickety shelves that instead of being replaced had been supplemented with newer shelves to accommodate the Leaky Cauldron’s growing clientele.

“Good morning, Mrs. Tonks, Mr. Lupin,” a squeaky voice said from somewhere near Teddy’s waist. He looked down, and found himself peering into a pair of large, yellow orbs that could easily have been mistaken for tennis balls.

He had seen house elves before, but rarely at such a close range; and their oversized eyes and ears always startled him a bit.

“My name is Lorry, ma’am, sir,” the house elf continued. “Mrs. Longbottom said you’d be coming.” She was wearing a tea cozy, stamped with the crest of the Leaky Cauldron. “This way.”

Teddy looked over at Gran, whose expression had suddenly gone a bit stony. “What’s wrong?” he asked as Lorry the house elf led them through a door at the far end of the kitchen, down a hallway, and pointed at the door.

“We don’t go past there,” Lorry squeaked, and ducked back into the kitchens.

Gran didn’t answer Teddy’s question, but pushed through the door at the end of the hallway.

The Leaky Cauldron was bustling with activity. Hannah Longbottom had changed the common room when she had become landlady, and the Leaky Cauldron was no longer dark and dusty. Poofy couches had been placed around the four major fire places, which burned brightly but not, at the moment, hot; the common room was warm but not uncomfortable. There were pool tables in the far corner, both mundane and magical, and several sets of wizard’s chess and other games had been piled in corners around room. Candles hovered throughout the room, avoiding people’s heads as they hurried to illuminate as much as possible.

There was a family with six children, all pale and dirty blond; the eldest five were all girls, but they had a younger brother who could barely walk and, as Teddy watched, ran into the back of a chair and started to howl. “There, there, Lucas,” the mother said. “Jane, run along and get some milk now, will you?”

The oldest girl, Teddy’s age, rushed past him to the bar, where Hannah handed her a glass of milk for her brother.

Another family entered the pub, two women, a man, and a girl who looked about Teddy’s age. “Avani,” the younger of the two women said to girl, “do you have your school list?”

Clearly, Diagon Alley was going to be full of new Hogwarts students and their parents doing their school shopping.

“Are we going?” Teddy asked, tugging on Gran’s sleeve. He didn’t want to be impolite, but she was taking _forever_.

“Just one more minute, I have to say hello to Hannah—”

Another family entered the Leaky Cauldron, two women, a man, and a young girl Teddy's age. "Avani," one of the women was saying, "apologize to your aunt right now!"

The girl mumbled something back at her aunt, but when she had looked away from her parents and aunt, she wrinkled her nose and glared. Teddy squashed a laugh.

"Parvati," someone was saying behind the family. The aunt turned, and Harry walked through the door.

Teddy suppressed the urge to shout and run over to his godfather. They were in a public place, and Harry didn't usually appreciate such displays when they were out in public. It was one reason Teddy rarely came to Diagon Alley with Harry—people stared, and asked for his autograph, or shook his hand. It was very odd, Teddy thought, but he had grown used it, just as he had grown used to not shouting Harry's name in a pub full of people.

Harry caught Teddy's eye and nodded. He finished his conversation with Parvati. People were indeed staring, but Hannah Longbottom, behind the bar, glowered at anyone who looked ready to get to their feet and ask for an autograph or shake Harry's hand.

"Gran didn't tell me you were coming!" Teddy said when Harry came over and towseled his hair.

"Well, I can't stay for long, but I had to get some things from the apothecary anyway," Harry replied. "And I couldn't leave you alone with your Gran for _too_ long!

"Mrs. Tonks," he said by way of greeting to Gran.

"Harry."

There was a moment of awkwardness, and then Harry cleared his throat. "Shall we, before Mr. Diggle over there in the corner finally works up the courage to shake my hand?"

There was indeed a man off in the corner who was spinning a hat around in his hands and looked like he desperately wanted to go over and wring Harry's hand.

They exited the Leaky Cauldron and found themselves in the small, dusty alleyway behind. A solid brick wall stood a few feet away, with a dustbin below it.

Gran tapped the correct brick with her wand, and it began to wriggle. A small hole appeared, widening every second, and then a moment later Diagon Alley lay before them. Teddy couldn't help grinning; the entrance to Diagon Alley was probably his favorite place in the wizarding world, though he hadn't been to very many magical places. Not even Hogsmeade, yet, though Harry assured him he'd get to go his third year at Hogwarts.

He appreciated that George had given him Floo rights to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, but he would rather have preferred to go through the proper entrance more often.

The clouds of earlier in the morning had cleared, and the sun snow shone brightly on the cobbled street. Witches and wizards crowded the streets, and everywhere Teddy looked he could see Hogwarts-aged children, buying owls or books or Potions supplies.

"Can we get my wand first?" Teddy asked, though he knew what Gran was going to say.

"Patience," she replied, and he sighed. She was too predictable. "Let's start with your books—unless—"

Harry shook his head. "By all means, Flourish and Blotts. I have a little less than an hour, so no particular rush."

"So," Teddy began as they headed up the cobbled street to Flourish and Blotts, "have you caught any bad guys lately?"

Harry laughed. "Every day!"

"Really?"

Harry snorted. "No, not quite, but we do try. We've got some activity in the werewolf colonies to worry about, and the goblins—" He paused, then continued. "Well, and the goblins are tricky as ever."

"What's going on in the werewolf colonies?"

Harry told him about the werewolf packs and how the Aurors were trying to track them; free werewolves, as they called themselves, didn't always do their best to avoid human settlements at the full moon, and thus people who lived near the werewolf colonies were in danger every month.

"But they're human too," Teddy said.

"Yes," Harry conceded. "But they have, at least for the moment, chosen to reject life among wizards, which makes them dangerous in any case."

According to Gran, werewolves were often cast out from society by wizards, because they were feared. Teddy didn't think it was entirely fair to say that werewolves had 'chosen' to reject life among wizards, but they had arrived at Flourish and Blotts and he didn't have a chance to ask.

As they opened the door to the bookshop, a bell rattled. Teddy stared. If he had ever been in Flourish and Blotts, it had been a long time ago, and he didn't remember it very well. There were books piled everywhere, shelves and shelves up to the ceiling. There weren't as many people lingering in the bookshop, but Flourish and Blotts wasn't lacking in business; even as Teddy watched, an old witch in a pointed gray hat bought a large stack of volumes on Transylvanian vampires.

"This way," Gran said, and led him off to a corner labeled 'Hogwarts textbooks.'

" _A History of Magic,_ , by Bathilda Bagshot." Harry had picked up one of the books and was staring at the cover.

"I need that one," Teddy said, grabbing it out of his godfather's hand. Harry didn't seem to want to let it go, but after a moment he passed it over.

" _Elementary Transfiguration,_ " Gran said, picking up another book and passing it over.

Teddy flipped it open to the index at the back and found the Ms.

"What are you looking for?" Harry asked, peering over his shoulder.

"I—just wanted to see if Metamorphmagic is in there," Teddy mumbled. He closed the book with a snap; he'd have time to look later without anyone staring at him.

His hair had turned blue again, he could tell by the amused expression on Harry's face.

"No one really knows how it works," Gran said gently, but she wasn't angry. "It probably isn't in there anyway, but you can look."

They found the rest of the books off of Teddy's list, and left the shop a few minutes later, Teddy's arms piled high. Next they went off to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, where Gran fussed until Madam Malkin told her to leave straightaway until she was done fitting Teddy. Harry stayed to watch, but he didn't speak.

"It's always the robes," Madam Malkin said, pinning something under Teddy's left ear. "Parents always get all worked up over the robes."

Gran was definitely getting worked up; she had had her nose pressed to the glass of the shop, until a short, plump wizard ran into her, at which point she spun around and stared, hawk-eyed, around the street as though to guard Madam Malkin's from any potential trespassers.

Teddy bought his robes with a few Galleons Gran had given him, and went back outside. "Ollivanders?" he asked brightly, handing Gran the robes.

"Harry needs to go the apothecary," Gran said instead. Harry didn't look terribly happy with that idea, but he nodded, glancing at his watch.

The apothecary, another shop Teddy had never had much occasion to enter, reminded him of the bookshop, except that instead of books piled everywhere, there were shriveled figs, bezoars, flowers of many different colors, cauldrons, crystal vials, scales, and countless other objects Teddy didn't yet have a name for.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing at what looked like a dried pear.

Before Gran had a chance to answer, the bell at the door rang and two women and a boy entered. They all had blond, curly hair, and one of the women wore bright red lipstick and carried a green quill in her hand.

Harry turned to look when they entered, and then stared, glowering. Teddy watched, fascinated; he had never seen his godfather look quite so angry at strangers. Gran watched, too, a pensive expression on her face.

"Harry!" the woman with the quill exclaimed, rushing forwards and producing a piece of parchment from an alligator hide handbag. She peered over the top of her spectacles at Teddy, then turned back with a wide smile to Harry. Before he had a chance to reply, she rattled of a stream of questions. "Sending your godson off to school, I presume? It's been eleven years, after all. What do you think of young Ted Lupin going off to Hogwarts? Concerned that his years will be as exciting as yours? Wishing your own children were ready? Sad that your own school years are over? Feeling responsible for anything that might happen to him at Hogwarts?"

Teddy stared. The quill had started scribbling the moment the woman had opened her mouth. "Harry Potter, legendary savior of wizarding Britain, chokes back tears as he sends his godson off to Hogwarts—"

"He's not choking back tears," Teddy said loudly.

Harry snorted. "Teddy—"

"But the quill is lying! It's making stuff up!"

The woman turned to Teddy, eyes sparkling. "And how about you, Mr. Lupin? How do you feel about the news that there will be a werewolf at Hogwarts this year? Concerned?"

"Er—"

The quill had started writing. _Teddy Lupin, son of Remus Lupin, the last werewolf to attend Hogwarts, reflects on the possibility of danger while at school, eyes sparkling with the ghost of his past_.

"You've used that one before," Harry said coolly.

The woman looked down at the parchment and laughed. "Oh, yes, I guess I have—no matter, the readers _love_ me ..." She turned back to Teddy. "And how do you feel about the rumors that _you_ are the werewolf?" She leaned close, and winked very obviously. "It's okay, you can tell me the truth."

Harry let out a noise. "All right, that's enough, Rita. You're _bugging_ us." He gave her a significant look.

Rita's face soured, and she pursed her lips angrily. But the green quill and the parchment disappeared, and she stalked back off to the rest of her family. "Come on, Alana," she said to the other woman. The boy stared at them; he had been watching her talk to Teddy and Harry the whole time. "Let's get Dante's things and go."

"What was that?" Teddy asked when they left the shop.

"Rita Skeeter," Gran supplied, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Your godfather has had—well, some run-ins with her."

Harry snorted. "You could say that."

"Why did she stop talking?"

Teddy wasn't about to complain, but it was a bit surprising. Even Gran looked a little puzzled, but Harry didn't answer. "Over here are the cauldrons," he said loudly. "Don't get a gold one, you'll probably melt down three in your first week."

Teddy wasn't happy with Harry's lack of forthcomingness, but he wasn't going to let that spoil the next few minutes until Harry had to go. They found the rest of Teddy's things, including several extra cauldrons—Gran seemed to think it was a good idea, just in case—and a bezoar, which Harry insisted was necessary, also just in case. "This is the kind of thing you should carry around with you," he told Teddy. "It's saved Ron's life, and it might save yours."

"Is Hogwarts dangerous?" Teddy asked before he could stop himself. All the stories about Harry's time at school—well, they were interesting, but Teddy didn't really want to have to do everything Harry had done. Stop the most evil wizard of all time? Fight dragons and Grindylows? It all sounded very fairytale-like. Teddy suddenly found himself, for a very brief moment, wondering whether he even wanted to go to Hogwarts, if that was what it was going to be like.

Gran rolled her eyes and gave him a quick hug. "Don't worry, Teddy," she said into his hair. "Harry's years at Hogwarts were ... special. There's always exciting things happening there, but you have nothing to fear."

He certainly hoped that was the case, but when they left the apothecary's, he stuck the bezoar in his pocket just in case.

Harry had to leave at that point, but he assured Teddy that they could all come over to dinner that night to see his new wand and hear all about Ollivander's. He headed off down the alley, and attempted to disappear into the crowd; but there was such a commotion once someone recognized him that Teddy was able to watch him until he rounded a corner and disappeared.

"Ollivander's?" Teddy said hopefully when he finally turned back to Gran.

"Oh, very well," she said with a bit of a smile, and Teddy grinned.

The wand shop was just up the road, and it was only a minute or two until they found themselves outside the wand shop. Teddy stared up at the name, slightly awe-struck. This was it—his very own wand. Even Gran wouldn't be able to stop him now. Maybe he could get Ginny to tell him what the most useful spells were; and Harry could teach him Defense Against the Dark Arts, so he'd be able to fend off dragons and Grindylows. Hermione could tell him all about the history of Hogwarts, so he'd be able to find all sorts of secret passageways in the castle. Ron could—Teddy frowned. He wasn't sure what type of magic Ron was good at, but he figured he could ask and Ron could show him all sorts of spells—

"Aren't you going to go in?"

Teddy started. He'd been so busy staring at Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 BC that he'd forgotten he had to actually buy the wand first.

He took a deep breath and pushed the door open. A bell tinkled off in the recesses of the shop as he stepped over the threshold. Gran followed and found a bench near the windows, where she dumped his robes. Teddy followed suit with the books and Potions supplies, then turned to look at the shop.

It was dark and musty, like the kind of place where you got yelled at for chewing too loudly. Hundreds, if not thousands, of boxes lined the walls, but Teddy saw many, many empty shelves extending into the back of the shop. There was a counter off to the right, where a young woman was holding a bright red feather and a shaft of wood, and was showing the nervous man behind her what she was doing.

"Getting the core into the wand is the hardest part," she was saying. "Oh—customers, let's go get him, he's getting a bit deaf nowadays and probably didn't hear the bell—"

They gathered up the feather, wood, and several instruments, and disappeared into the back. A moment later, an ancient man appeared in the back, limping towards them. His hair was graying and he wheezed, but when he reached the counter, his gaze was sharp as he stared at Teddy.

"Hello," Teddy said a bit uncertainly.

"Mrs. Tonks," the man said, inclining his head in Gran's direction.

"Mr. Ollivander," she replied.

"Blackthorn, fifteen inches, phoenix tail feather," Mr. Ollivander said without looking at Gran. It wasn't a question, merely a statement describing Gran's wand. "Thirty-two years later, yew, fourteen inches, phoenix tail feather."

"Y-yes," Gran stammered. Teddy didn't think he'd ever heard her stammer before.

"And you, Mr. Lupin," Mr. Ollivander said. He raised a frail hand and fished a box from the shelves near his head. "I have just the wand for you. Willow, eleven inches, phoenix tail feather. Your parents both had phoenix, your grandmother, your godfather. Very powerful core, phoenix tail feather, and it tends to make great wizards ..."

He handed Teddy a box. Teddy opened it and stared at the wand. It was beautiful, he thought—long and slender, smoothly polished.

"Go on," Mr. Ollivander said. "Take the wand. Give it a wave."

Teddy picked the wand up and waved it around a bit. Nothing happened. He felt a great swoop of disappointment, then worry—what if this meant he couldn't go to Hogwarts? If he didn't have a wand, he certainly couldn't go.

Mr. Ollivander frowned. "Well then, let's try another."

He handed Teddy another box, and then another, and then another. All willow, of varying sizes and wood types and cores. "Swishy," Ollivander would say, "good for charms. This one—very sturdy, excellent for Transfiguration. Strong, very powerful, but not very subtle."

"Er," Teddy said at last, when he had tried at least twenty different willow wands. "Perhaps—perhaps willow isn't the wood for me—"

Mr. Ollivander limped foward until they were nose to nose. Teddy could see his himself reflected in Mr. Ollivander's misty eyes, his hair a bright green today.

Then, as abruptly as Mr. Ollivander began to stare at him, he turned and went back to the shelves. "What is your wand arm?"

Teddy held up his right hand. A measuring tape appeared out of nowhere, and began to measure Teddy's arm length from shoulder to finger, and then wrist to elbow; from elbow to elbow, and nose to forehead. As he measured, he started to speak. "I made those wands especially for you," he said. "The willow wood is from the Whomping Willow, the tree at Hogwarts that guarded the entrance to the Shrieking Shack, where your father went to transform into a wolf every full moon. Hagrid gave me a branch a few years back." He turned to peer at Teddy. "I make wands for specific people every week," he said, coming nose-to-nose with Teddy again. "Never have I failed so spectacularly."

Teddy didn't quite know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything. He hoped that didn't mean he wasn't going to find _any_ wand.

Mr. Ollivander started to take down boxes. "So," he continued, "we shall have to do this the hard way. Every wand has a core made of a powerful magical substance. We use only unicorn hair, phoenix tail feathers, and dragon heartstring. No two wands are ever the same, and you will never be able to use another wizard's wand as well as your own."

Teddy gulped. "What happens if I break my wand?" he asked.

"You get a new one, of course," Mr. Ollivander replied, returning to the counter with a pile of boxes. He handed the top box to Teddy. "Yew, unicorn hair, eleven inches. Sturdy. Try—"

Teddy took the wand and began to wave it, but the moment he raised it Mr. Ollivander snatched it away.

"No, no, no. Holly, dragon heartstring, fourteen inches, try."

Teddy waved it, too, but nothing happened. Ollivander gave him another, and then another, and another, but none of the wands worked. He piled all the rejected wands on a spindly chair to the left of the counter. The pile grew taller and taller, and more and more precarious; but Mr. Ollivander grew happier with every wand that didn't work.

"Tricky, tricky ... your godfather was tricky, too, and your mother ..."

Teddy went through another ten wands. None of them worked. Yew, ebony, hawthorne, blackthorn, holly, willow again, aspen, rowan—none of them seemed to work.

"Maybe," Teddy said, morphing his hair black again as he stared at the ground. "Maybe there isn't a wand for me."

"Nonsense," Mr. Ollivander said. "It's just in the back, of course."

He stared at Teddy for a moment, and then frowned. "Perhaps we should try—"

He found a wand at the very back. "I have been saving this for some time, for the most stubborn of customers," he said, bringing the wand case forward and handing it over to Teddy. "A bit experimental, but then, none of them have worked yet—"

Teddy took the wand out of the case. It felt warm and alive beneath his fingers. He swooshed it through the air, and it left behind a trail of red and green sparks. Gran gasped, and Mr. Ollivander let out a victorious shout. "Oh, very well done, very well done—curious, though, very curious ..."

He put Teddy's wand back in the box and wrapped it up, still muttering, "Curious, curious ..."

"Sorry," Teddy asked. "But _what's_ curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed him with a pale stare.

"This wand is yew, dragon heart string, twelve inches," Mr. Ollivander said slowly. "But it has heart strings from two different dragons. I made this wand shortly after the end of the war, you see, and had run out of enough heart strings from the same dragon. It happens occasionally—I’ve made a few others, usually with unicorn hairs from different unicorns."

Teddy swallowed. "What does that mean? Is it going to work?"

Mr. Ollivander laughed. "Oh yes, of course, Mr. Lupin—did you not see the sparks? It will work perfectly fine. It is merely an odd wand, Mr. Lupin." He gave Teddy another pale stare. "But no matter. It is a wand, nonetheless."

Gran paid seven Galleons for the wand, and they left the shop.

They walked in silence down Diagon Alley. "Mr. Ollivander is a very interesting person," Gran said at last. "I think he likes scaring his younger customers into a proper appreciation for wands. Don't take anything by it."

"But it sounded like there's something wrong with my wand." He couldn't avoid looking at the box, which had been piled right on top of his textbooks and was now in front of his nose.

Gran shook her head. "There's nothing wrong with it, nothing at all. As long as it works, it's a wand."

Teddy supposed she was right, but it was still a bit odd.

It was past lunch time, now, so they returned to the Leaky Cauldron. Hannah Longbottom gave them a room in the back to pile Teddy's things, and Lorry the house elf brought them a plate of steaming pies.

Teddy was quiet as he ate, but by the end of the meal he had decided that whatever Ollivander thought of his wand, it was now _his_ wand; and if it worked, it worked, and that was all that really mattered. He had seen the sparks himself, after all—clearly, there was nothing wrong with his wand, even if it was a bit unusual.

Neville stopped by while they were eating, and Teddy showed off his new wand and books. Neville immediately picked out _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ , and explained how'd he chosen the book despite an error on page 324. Teddy laughed and told him he sounded like Hermione, at which point Neville turned bright red and muttered something about Hogwarts professors having responsibilities.

They went off to buy the last of Teddy's school supplies, but when he begged an owl, Gran flatly refused. "It would die after a day in your hands," she claimed.

Teddy sighed at that. She had no faith in him; he had never killed any of the rats or toads he'd had over the years, they'd all died from natural deaths, if being eaten by the neighbor's cat counted as natural. But Gran refused, and eventually Teddy gave up. Perhaps he could get an owl year, he thought to himself.

***

That night, they went off to the Potters' for dinner, and Teddy told Harry and Ginny all about his wand. Harry laughed when Teddy explained how Mr. Ollivander had thought his wand was curious.

"He said exactly the same thing when I bought my wand," Harry said. "He always thinks it's curious why a wand chooses a particular wizard."

"Wands choose wizards?" Teddy asked in wonder. He looked down at his wand, which had transferred to his pocket. He had to remember to carry it around, now. "He didn't mention that."

Harry's face grew clouded for a second, and then he smiled. "Ah, well, a bit of wand lore, that's all ..."

Teddy got the distinct feeling that Harry wasn't telling him everything. Usually, Harry would answer any question Teddy asked, which was convenient because Teddy liked to ask questions; but this sounded like something ominous. He wasn't quite in the mood for ominous, though; and in any case, Harry did not look like he wanted to answer any questions on that particular front. So he let it go, with a mental note to ask at a more appropriate time, whenever that would be.

They moved on to dessert, treacle tart, and the topic of discussion moved to Hogwarts. Harry and Ginny told him all sorts of things about Hogwarts Castle that he had to keep an eye out for—"the staircases move," Ginny informed him, "you have to make sure you plan ahead for that"—and Gran even told a few stories about her own time at Hogwarts, about getting lost trying to get back to the Slytherin dungeons at midnight, when the only ghost around was the Bloody Baron.

"He's the Slytherin house ghost," she said, "but he's a little creepy."

"Give my regards to the Gray Lady," Harry told him, but he wouldn't tell Teddy why when he asked.

Well, Teddy thought to himself, he would just have to ask her when he got there. The thought cheered him a bit.

They told him all about the paintings to watch out for—apparently, Sir Cadogan gave good directions but was useless for anything else. The Fat Friar was a friendly ghost, and Nearly Headless Nick would try to get him to go to Hallowe'en and Deathday Parties if Teddy was in Gryffindor.

At the mention of Hogwarts houses, Teddy feigned a yawn, and slumped down in his chair. He didn't want to talk about which house he'd be in with Gran, Harry, and Ginny. Gran wanted him to be in Slytherin, like her, he knew; and Harry and Ron dropped hints about Gryffindor, though Harry didn't seem opposed to any of the other houses, just hopeful that Teddy would be in his own.

They finished dinner at that, and just as Teddy and Gran were getting ready to leave, Teddy heard a squawk. Harry emerged from the recesses of the house with a cage and an owl.

"For me?" Teddy asked, hardly daring to believe his luck.

Gran smiled. "Good thing we didn't go buy an owl today, eh?"

Teddy took the cage from Harry's hands. The tawny owl turned its head to peer at Teddy, and chirped.

"Give her some of this," Harry said, handing Teddy a packet of food pellets. "At Hogwarts you can pretty much just leave her out of the cage all the time, though you might want to bring her in during really bad storms."

"Brilliant," Teddy breathed, staring at the owl. "What's her name?"

"That's for you to decide," Harry said with a wink.


End file.
